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W .A . ilk c- 




TWO NOBLE WOMEN 



SUSAN PARKMAN. 


“ Thou shall love thy neighbor as thyself.'^ 
I have given you an ex ample, 


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AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

10 EAST 23 D STREET, NEW YORK. 




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COPYRIGHT, 1897, 

BY AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 






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CONTENTS. 


\ 


CHAPTER I. 

JIM BURRIS STORY. 5 

CHAPTER II. 

NANCY BURRIS STORY 19 

CHAPTER III. - 

SALLIE CARMEVS STORY 43 

CHAPTER IV. 

IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED 69 

CHAPTER V. 

BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT^^ .... 89 

CHAPTER VI. 

HOW JIM'^flNED^* III 

CHAPTER VII. 

^^LORD, SAVE; I PERISH r.. 129 



TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


CHAPTER I. 

JIM BURRIs’ STORY. 

“Yes,” said he, whittling a fresh chip 
off the stick in his hand and putting it 
into his mouth to chew, “ yes, I ’ve had 
experience. I ’ve nussed most everything, 
clear down to small-pox.” 

He was a tinner who had just straight- 
ened up a gutter which a branch torn off 
by the wind had twisted in its fall. His 
little charcoal furnace with its simple kit 
of tools suggested to my thrifty mind sev- 
eral leaky vessels needing only a drop of 
solder to make them good as new. So I 
brought them out, and he repaired them 
by the kitchen door. My little boy came 
running home from school, and in his haste 


6 


TfrO NOBLE WOMEN. 


to see the soldering iron work he tripped 
and fell and cut his face quite badly on a 
scrap of tin. 

Before I could run down the steps the 
tinner had him in his arms ; he took him 
to the pump and washed away the blood, 
and when I brought the court-plaster he 
laid the ragged edges of the skin together 
and applied the court-plaster as neatly as 
any doctor could. 

“You’ve had experience,” said I, when 
the wound was dressed. 

“ Oh, yes, I ’ve nussed most everything, 
clear down to small-pox." 

“ Sit down a while,” said I ; “it is my 
treat. You might as well rest a few min- 
utes and I ’ll pay for it, and you tell me 
how you nursed the small-pox.” 

He sat down like a gentleman, and tak- 
ing oflE his battered hat he showed his 
forehead covered with deep, red pock- 
marks. 


JIM BURRIS' STORY. 


7 


“ Do you see them pits ?” he asked. 
“ Well, I kin prove I nussed the small-pox, 
fer I tuck it from the feller that I nussed. 
He were a poor feller, and we worked at 
the same bench ; and when he tuck the 
small-pox it looked pretty rough for him, 
I tell you. He had n’t any home, and it 
wasn’t no use to take him to his boarding- 
house, fer he ’d ’a’ been pitched out a heap 
quicker ’n he got there. So I thinks, says 
I, ‘Jim Burris, ef you was in that feller’s 
fix, what ’d you like fer him to do ?’ And 
I says, says I, “ I ’d like mighty well to 
have good care.’ So I just put fer home 
to see my old woman ; and I says, says 
I, ‘ Nancy, if I was tuck with small-pox, 
what ’d you do ?’ And she says, says she, 
‘ I ’d take the very best care of you, Jim.’ 
And I says, says I, ‘ Well, I ’m going to 
have it ’fore long.’ Then I told her about 
the sick feller, and her and me made our 
plan in two minutes fer taking care of 


8 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


him ; and I kissed her good-by till I got 
well, fer I knowed I ’d never dare tech her 
again after I handled him till we was both 
all right again. 

“ Then I went to git him, and she went 
to work and pulled everything but the bed 
and two chairs out of the up stairs back 
room, and sot a ladder ag’in’ the shed roof. 
I helped him up the ladder, and I went up 
too, and in the winder, and I never once 
opened the door into the hall till me and 
him was well again. 

“ He was able to set up and limp around 
a little afore I come down, so one or tother 
of us managed to haul our water and med- 
icines and provender up by a rope out of 
the winder.” 

“ But how did the wife and children get 
along all that time ?” I asked. “ Of course 
the neighbors would stay away, and she 
could not go abroad for work.” 

“Yes, that was all so, but the boys at 


JIM BURRIS' STORY. 


9 


the shop, they kep’ us going ; they every 
one give ten cents a day, and the boss he 
done the same ; so we felt that we had 
friends and that done us as much good as 
the medicine. 

“ And Nancy never yet faulted me fer 
it. She got thin and white, I tell you. 
But every little while she ’d come out 
under the winder and holler up, ‘ Jim, 
you ’re a-doing right, and it ’ll come out 
straight.’ My wife ’s a good woman — 
she ’s one of the praying kind. 

“ And the feller I nussed, he seemed 
like he never could do enough fer me or 
fer her. He lived at our house fer three 
year, and never a Christmas went over 
our heads but lots of little corners in the 
house got filled up. Seemed like he kep’ 
a book of every little thing he heard my 
wife say she wanted, or the children 
throwed out hints about. 

“ And Bill, he seemed like he was per- 


10 


rif'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


fectly contented till lie got acquainted 
with a purty girl, neighbor to us, that 
clerked in a fancy store. Bill, he thought 
there never was such a girl, and she was 
sociable enough with Bill fer quite a while, 
and then she throwed him over fer a clerk 
in a dry goods store. Seems like some 
girls likes a man that ’s all the time fixed 
up like Sunday ; and them dry-goods fel- 
lers has to be, you know. And then they 
learn to bow and grin to sell the goods ; 
they have to talk so fine to fine ladies that 
they git the hang of it, and it do n’t take 
them no time to make a mash on a girl 
what ’s looking out fer style. 

“ Now a tinner ’s different to that, you 
know. Most of us stands at the bench all 
day with our leather aperns on, and our 
ears is nearly split with hammering stove- 
pipe jints and shaping pans and pails; 
and if that noise does quit, as like as not 
there ’s some one cussing. If we do go to 


JIM BURRIS STORY. 


II 


a house it’s jest to climb to pipe and 
gutter. Well, a tinner do n’t have much 
chance to play the dude ; he can’t look 
reely nice on Sundays, fer you can’t git 
all the black out of your hands, and your 
nails is always jagged off with the tin. 
And then me and Bill was all pockmarked, 
and the dirt settled in them, you know. 
Look at me now. Would n’t call me 
very handsome, would you? Well, Bill, 
he was jest so. But there ’s lots of tin- 
ners that read and write of evenings 
and go to church on Sundays, and they 
make a good deal better living than 
them dressed up dry-goods clerks, I tell 
you. 

“ But this girl, she had no sense, so Bill 
he got discouraged. He moped around a 
while, and then he got to drinking. Him 
and me, we done a good deal of that be- 
fore I got married to Nancy, but she got 
me out of it ; and Bill, he seemed like he 


12 


TfrO NOBLE WOMEN. 


had quit fer good when he got well of the 
small-pox. 

“Well, he come home drunk two or 
three nights, and then Nancy, she said 
one morning, says she, ‘ Bill, I never 
asked a favor of you yit, did I ?’ And he 
says, says he, ‘ No, you never did, but I 
wisht you would, fer I owe enough to you.’ 
And then she says, says she, ‘ I ’m going 
to ask one now. I ’ve heerd you tell how 
you used to beat the hull crowd a-playing 
checkers and dominos, and I ’d like to 
learn them games, and have the children 
learn them too. So, if you ’d jest as lief 
give me my Christmas now and let me 
choose it, get a set of games and give the 
first lesson to-night.’ 

“ Well, Bill, he kind of choked up, fer 
he knowed she never asked that on her 
own account ; but Bill was man enough to 
take it right, and so he says, says he, ‘ Of 
course, I will. Mis’ Burris, with the great- 


JIM BURRIS’ STORY. 


13 


est pleasure.’ He got them on the way 
home from the shop, and after supper him 
and me cleaned up and we all sot down 
together, and Bill and Nancy made them 
checkers hop around, I tell you. The 
little fellers caught onto the game as soon 
as anybody, and the way they watched 
and gave them good advice ! 

“Then we tried the dominos, and all 
tuck hands at that. Fust thing we knew 
it was bedtime, and Bill was sober yit. 

“ ‘ Nancy,’ says I, when we shut our door 
and heard him pitch his boots across his 
room, ‘ I reckon I know what you ’re driv- 
ing at.’ 

‘“Well, Jim,’ says she, ‘when I fust 
smelled Bill’s breath the other night I 
thought about the time he tuck the small- 
pox, and I thought how you chanced your 
own life to nuss him, and how I never 
said a word agin’ it ; and then I thought 
fer a minute maybe we made a mistake. 


14 


Tff'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


and maybe Bill had ought to died that 
time ; he ’d better died of small-pox than 
of drink. And then. I says to myself, says 
I, ‘ No, Nancy Burris, wrong do n’t come 
out of right,’ and I asked the Lord to show 
me how to nuss Bill this time. And now 
one sober evening has passed away. If 
we kin keep him sober one night at a 
time, we ’ll save poor Billy yit.’ 

“ ‘ That ’s so,’ ” says I. ‘“I ’ll watch him 
days, and we ’ll keep him entertained of 
evenings between us, fer if he gits a good 
start with the drink, it ’ll take something 
more than small-pox for the second cure.’ 

“And I tell you, I was afeared to tell 
my wife, but the smell of Bill’s breath 
come pretty near upsetting me. It was 
hard work to get a-past ten or fifteen 
saloons to walk from the shop to my 
house. The little woman didn’t know 
she was helpin’ both of us. 

“ Well, Nancy, she stuck to it ; she got 


JIM BURRIS' STORY. 


15 


some other games, but nary a pack of 
play-cards. You see, her father, he was 
stabbed while playing fer money, and 
she ’s always said cards might come in at 
our door, like any other varmint, but 
they ’d never leave it any way but up the 
chimbley ! And by-and-by she managed 
to git some books, them paper - covered 
books named ‘Riverside’ and ‘Franklin 
Square,’ and Bill and me we got to read- 
ing, and Bill he read the Bible most of 
all. And the grass did n’t git no chance 
to grow around our seat in the Methodist 
church. Fer six good months she kep’ 
something a-going so ’s Bill he never tuck 
an evening out, and the young ones, they 
never was so happy. 

“ I said to Nancy, said I, that I guessed 
she’d found out the way to manage us 
all. But Nancy, she always was a clever 
woman, and a good one too. She ’s one 
of the prayin’ kind. Only fer her I ’d ’a’ 


1 6 TtVO NOBLE WOMEN. 

went to the dogs long years ago. Well, 
as I said, six months we went on so, and 
then one day me and Bill we got the job 
of guttering a building, and the wind was 
blowing hard and the roof was slick as 
grease, a mouldy green roof it was, and 
Bill he slipped and fell. 

“We picked him up and carried him 
home to Nancy. He opened his eyes and 
looked at me and looked at her, and back 
at me and back at her. He lifted up one 
hand and looked at the red pits full of 
dirt, and he says in a whisper, ‘Jim, you 
saved me when I had the small-pox, and 
Nancy, you’ve saved me from going to 
torment,’ and he kind of put up his lips 
like he wanted us to kiss him. We both 
kissed him, and then he was gone. 

“ When he laid in his coffin, Nancy she 
slipped the six odd checkers more ’n the 
game required in under his hand and the 
Bible she laid on his breast in plain sight. 


JIM BURRIS' STORY. 


17 


“ ‘ Folks would think it was blasphemi- 
ous,' says she, ‘ to put them checkers there 
dost by the Bible, but the Lord knows 
they helped to save poor Bill from tor- 
ment’ ” 

“ But what became of the girl ?” I asked 
him, anxious to hear the whole of his 
story. 

“ Oh, that fixed-up dry-goods feller lays 
in jail this day for stealing a silk dress to 
put on that fool girl’s back. And she, 
well, Nancy give her baby-clothes and 
things, and Nancy nussed her all the nuss- 
ing she had. Maybe she will git well, but 
I think it ’s a even chance ef she lives till 
his cell ’s unlocked fer him. Bill, he could 
’a’ kep’ her decent, give her enough to 
eat, a good plain livin’; but that feller 
starved her most to death. 

“ But they a’ n’t many girls, nor women 
neither, to stand up by my wife. She ’s 

a clever woman and a praying woman, 
2 


1 8 TfTO NOBLE WOMEN. 

and I know she ’s saved poor Bill, and I 
believe she ’ll save me yit.” 

He turned to pick up his irons and fur- 
nace, and I thanked him for his story and 
asked him if I might call on Nancy. Such 
a bright look swept across his face. 

“ I know you ’d like my Nancy ; she ’s 
a clever woman.” 

So I wrote down the address, purposing 
to call and see the woman who had in- 
vented a new cure for drunkenness. And 
“ Nancy Burris’ Story ” I found so touch- 
ing and absorbing that I wrote it down. 


NANCY BURRIS' STORY. 


19 


CHAPTER II. 

NANCY BURRIs’ STORY. 

I VERY soon availed myself of the ad- 
dress the tinner gave me and knocked at 
a clean white door on a quiet back street, 
the very name of which I had never heard 
before. A woman opened the door and 
kindly bade me enter. The room was 
neat and tasteful ; a faded carpet covered 
the floor, a stand of flowers stood drink- 
ing sunshine by the window, a goodly pile 
of books furnished the mantel, and here, 
on a little table close by me, was a box 
of dominos and a checker-board. 

I raised the lid while we exchanged 
some views about the weather, and I an- 
swered her kind questions about Johnny’s 
face, and I counted the pieces hastily. 
Twelve black ones and twelve white 


20 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


ones — this was the very set of checker- 
men, and three of each were clasped in 
that dead pockmarked hand. 

She saw the tears that welled up in my 
eyes and guessed what brought them 
there. Wiping her own eyes with her 
apron, she said, 

“ Jim told me how as he told you about 
Bill Bullitt the day he straightened up 
your gutter, so I s’pose you’re thinking 
about them checkers we buried with him.” 

“ Yes,” said I, “ I never heard a story 
that interested me more ; and I think, if 
you will tell me all about it too, I may be 
able to tell it to some who will be helped 
by it.” 

“ Why, ef you would,” said she, “ you ’re 
welcome to it, surely.” 

“ But I want more than that,” said I. 
” Your husband said that you reformed 
him long ago, and I would like to hear 
about that too. It is not idle curiosity, I 


NANCY BURRIS' STORY. 


21 


beg you to believe ; I do not pry into my 
neighbors’ business or family affairs ; but 
several of my best friends have loved 
ones on the road to ruin, and may be you 
and I can give them a new idea which 
will help them. And I want to write it 
down after you tell it. I have written 
down all your husband said, and I will 
send it to a good paper, so that thousands 
of people may be helped by it. I will put 
in other names, and nobody will recognize 
you.” 

Rising, she went to a little cupboard 
and took therefrom a roll of knitting-work 
and sat down again. It was a pair of mit- 
tens, big gray mittens, “ fer Jim to wear 
a-doing roof-work in cold weather.” She 
knit them in the summers, in twilight 
hours, and hours when visitors came in 
and courtesy demanded less absorbing, 
noisy work than stitching overalls and lit- 
tle breeches on the rattling old machine. 


22 


TU'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


And she apologized for doing even that 
to-day. 

“You must excuse me, but I could not 

talk about them days when Jim was wild- 

0 

like without my knitting. I always git 
so — so kind of worked-up like, when I 
let myself think long about them days, 
that I git nervous-like and wring my 
hands.” 

“ Oh, do n’t apologize,” said I, “ for I 
thought you might be busy, so I brought 
my work along to keep you company.” 

Oddly enough, for that warm day, my 
work was mittens too, blue ones for John- 
ny, which I was knitting in odd hours, to 
be ready for the very first cold day. 

So we both fell to knitting mittens. 
We compared our needles and our yarn, 
we talked a while about a fancy stitch 
and pattern and how to replace worn-out 
thumbs and palms, and by and by, when 
she seemed quite at ease as if we were old 


rtANCY BURRIS' STORY. 


23 


friends, I asked how long she had been 
married. 

“ Eleven year this coming winter,” said 
she ; “ I was eighteen year old the day I 
married.” 

•I looked at her. Only twenty-nine years 
old and I was forty ! Life has dealt gently 
with my heart and face, but the face before 
me had history enough in it for fifty years 
of life. It was a strong face, full of char- 
acter and sweetness, but bearing lines of 
suffering and distress. It was a counte- 
nance that comes to victors after a bitter 
conflict. It had that peaceful look that 
faces wear after the suffering and the dy- 
ing, while waiting for the burial. 

“ Ef you really want to hear about us 
and will put in other names, I will begin 
back to the first of it,” said she, after a 
moment’s musing. 

“ I do, indeed,” said I, “ and I think it 
will do good.” 


24 


TK'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Well, my father, he was a drinking 
man from the first I kin remember. My 
poor mother did the best she could to 
keep us children right and to protect us, 
but one night he druv us out of doors, 
and her too, out into the snow. She 
wrapped us up the best she could, and 
we saw daylight, all but her and the baby ; 
they was dead when he came to hisself and 
opened the door to let us in again. He 
swore off drinking then fer a while, but 
he got into the way of it again. Well, we 
all growed up somehow, and father, he got 
cut over a game of cards he was playing 
for money. You see, sometimes he won, 
sometimes he lost. For a long time he 
won, and we had plenty ; then he got to 
drinking harder, and he lost his sharpness 
and we was hungry half the time. Then 
one night b© got to fighting, and they 
brought him home bleeding and dying. 
Jim, he was a-going by the saloon-door 


NANCY BURRIS’ STORY. 


25 


when father got cut, and he helped them 
carry him home. He stayed all night and 
helped me take care of father, and that ’s 
how me and him got acquainted. I’We 
was married in six months, and in all that 
time I never smelled liquor in his breath, 
and I thought Jim was straight. 

“ It was n’t more ’n a month till he 
come home as drunk as he could walk ; 
he could n’t get up the steps. It was a 
warm night, and I kind of guided him 
around into the back yard, and he fell 
down on the grass. I set and held his 
head in my lap all night. I was afeared 
to leave him alest the rats would gnaw 
him, so I held his head, and washed him 
off when he throwed up. His head ached 
all next day so he could n’t lift it up, but 
I give him coffee and kep’ the room cool 
and dark, and set by him all day. He 
said he wouldn’t never drink no more, 
and he did n’t fer a while, but that never 


26 


TJVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


lightened my load of worry ary bit. I ’d 
seen that tried and said before, but I tried 
to look like I believed it.-^ 

“In six weeks he got at it again, and 
never come home fer three days and 
nights. Them days and nights seen a 
hard fight for me. I couldn’t see my 
way clear at first at all. Sometimes I ’d 
say to myself, ‘ The best thing you kin do 
is to light out, right now, before they is a 
crowd of helpless little children to suffer 
with you. And you ’ve seen your mother 
die before her own door : what ’s the use 
of you being druv out in the snow like 
she was, when you could make a good liv- 
ing fer yourself now ?’ 

“ I did put all my things into my trunk 
the second day : but just as I was putting 
on my shawl to go and call an expressman 
to take my trunk to the d6p6t, I heard a 
step at the front-door, and it sounded just 
like Jim’s. 


NANCV BURRIS’ STORY. 


27 


“ I thro wed off my shawl and opened 
the door. It seemed like my love for Jim 
come up as strong as ever when I heerd 
that step — but it wasn’t Jim, only a ped- 
ler. I went back and set down on my 
trunk and cried. Seemed like ef I could 
leave my body with Jim and forgit where 
I left it, and go away myself where I ’d 
have no more worry — never know whether 
he was drunk or sober — I ’d do it gladly. 
And then it come to me, all in a flash, 
that that was just what mother done that 
cold night ; and I says to myself, says I, 
‘ That is a-coming to you, too, some day — 
eternal life, with nary worry in it ; so be 
patient a little while ! You swore to stick 
to Jim for better or fer worse, and now 
it’s turned out to be worse don’t break 
your promise.’ So I dried my tears and 
hung my clothes up in the closet ag’in. 
And then I tuck my Bible and read every- 
thing it says about drunkards. And I 


2 $ 


TJVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


says, says I, ‘ Dear Lord, I find I am mar- 
ried to a drunkard ! Please, Lord, fer 
mercy’s sake, help me to live with him, 
and show me if there ’s any waCy to save 
him ! And please take me up out of it ef 
it gits too hard !’ 

“ And then I made myself a cup of tea 
and a plate of toast, and I went to bed and 
slept as sweet as a baby. 

“Jim, he come home next morning. 
He sneaked in, like he thought I was go- 
ing to cry or scold ; but I jist give him 
toast and tea, told him all the news I could 
make up (fer I had n’t left my door while 
he was gone), and nary one of us named 
him being gone at all.” 

“ The next week he come home drunk 
ag’in, and I nussed him through it. Then, 
when he come to himself, he began to 
cry, and say he had a mind to kill him- 
self — that he ’d better die and leave me 
alone in peace. 


NANCY BURRIS' STORY. 


29 


“ Then I seen my chance to speak. 
‘ Jim,’ says I, ‘ I married you for better or 
fer worse ; and ef it ’s worse, it ’s worse. 
But it might jest as well be better, ef 
you’ll let me help you, and I believe the 
Lord’ll show me how.’ 

“ I went and got the Bible, and read 
to him all them verses about drunkards 
I come acrost ; and him and I agreed that 
drinking did n’t ’pear to be a little matter 
to the Lord, nor yit a matter that a man 
has ary right to settle for himself. 

‘“Now, Jim,’ says I, ‘when do you 
drink ?’ 

“ ‘ Well, Nancy,’ says he, ‘ generally on 
the way home of evenings, but sometimes 
on the way to the shop of mornings.’ 

“ ‘ Well now,’ says I, ‘ ef you will let me 
walk along of you to work, and call by fer 
you evenings, will that help you to keep 
straight ?’ 

“ Seemed like he thought it would ; so 


3 ° 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


every morning I packed his dinner-pail 
and slicked myself while he was eating, 
and walked with him to the sho*p-door, 
and carried my dinner-pail, so folks would 
think I worked somewheres, and then 
streaked back home another way to eat 
my breakfast. Then every evening I 
took my pail and went back the same way 
I come, and stopped for Jim, and walked 
home with a sober man. 

“ He liked it for a while, and then he 
got contrairy. Some of the men, they got 
in the way of sending out for beer to take 
with their noon-lunch, and Jim, he drank 
it too. Fer he thought ef I come for him 
he would n’t git no chance to git anything 
stronger, and the beer wouldn’t do no 
harm. But that little taste of beer jest 
kep’ him restless and thirsty, and he after 
a while looked cross at me when I come 
after him, and throwed out hints that ef 
he was old enough to earn a living for 


NANCY BURRIS’ STORY. 


31 


me he was old enough to walk the streets 
"alone. He ’d quit work before the hour, 
and let them dock him, jest to give me 
the slip and git home before me, to let me 
see he could do without me. 

“But every time I was scared jest the 
same ; my heart would beat so hard when 
I found he ’d gone ahead that it could n’t 
quiet down when I found him safe, so I 
got almost sick. 

“ Then I tried going earlier, and tried 
to be as lively as I could to entertain him. 
Jim, he always thought so much of a good 
conundrum ; he knowed our old joke-book 
by heart, so I could n’t crap him anywhere 
in that. So I turned my wits over all day 
to make up something for him to guess, 
to pass away the time walking home. One 
evening the new moon was up a’ready, 
with a star behind it, and I turned Jim 
so as he ’d see it over his right shoulder, 
fer luck, and I says, says I, “ Why is a 


32 


TH^O NOBLE WOMEN. 


Star like a pie ?’ He thought and thought 
for ten squares. He guessed ‘they both 
had crinkled edges,’ and ‘ both was liable 
to be hot,’ and jest as we got to our door 
he give it up, and said it must be some- 
thing like ‘ because neither one can climb 
a tree ;’ and I says, says I, ‘ Well, I ’ll put 
you out of your misery, Jim. A star is 
like a pie, because it is a pie (up high).' 
That was the only conundrum I made up 
that lasted him ten squares — for he was 
a good hand to guess, and knowed the 
motions of conundrums. 

“ One day, when I ’d about made up 
my mind that I ’d have to quit walking 
them forty squares every day before long, 
the boss, he come into the shop one noon 
and told the boys he had a baby at his 
house and would set up the beer for them. 
He sent for a bottle apiece ; and Jim, he 
could n’t rest, when once he had that down, 
till he got something else. He borried a 


NANCy BURRIS' STORY. 


33 


dollar from the boss (fer I kep’ all his 
money fer him, and even bought his 
backy), and he started off on a run as soon 
as the six o’clock bell rung. 

“ I was standing by the lamp-post when 
he come out, but he got the start of me. 
I followed him the best I could, but I lost 
him in the crowd. Then I begun on the 
saloons. I went in every one, and at two 
o’clock in the morning I found him lying 
on the sidewalk, where they’d pitched 
him out of that big, high-toned saloon on 
Garber Avenue, where the band plays 
every night. 

“ I had my dinner-pail in my hand yet, 
but his ’n had been stole from him, and 
all the little trinkets from his pockets — 
even the button from his neck-band and 
the shoes and stockings from his feet! 
Well, I filled the pail with water from the 
hydrant, and set down on the curbstone 
to bathe his head, fer it was hot as fire. 

3 


34 


TJVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ My pride says to me, ‘ Leave him here 
fer the police ; do n’t let anybody see you 
sitting in the gutter by a sot!’ But I 
looked up at the sky, and it somehow rested 
me and made me strong to see the bright 
stars shining and feel the night so still. 
And I says to my pride, says I, ‘ They 
a’ n’t no place on earth too good to take 
care of a man the Saviour died fer ; and 
they a’ n’t no woman too good to do it, 
neither. I ’ve married Jim fer worse, and 
I ’ll stick to worse till it turns to better !’ 
And I set and bathed his head. 

“ Pretty soon a policeman come along 
and looked at me and Jim, and he says, 
says he, ‘ I reckon I ’m the doctor fer this 
case.’ And I says, says I, ‘ As fur as git- 
ting the fee is concerned, I kin pay you 
that, but so fur as the doctoring is con- 
cerned, I’ve taken that contract fer life, 
and I ’m a-going to keep him under my 
care.’ He kind of laughed, and said he 


NANCY BURRIS' STORY. 


35 

’lowed I ’d better move him on before 
daylight, and passed along. 

“ It tuck me two good hours to wake 
Jim up, and then he was so cross! Jim 
never cursed me till that time, and it 
made me feel like he had power to curse 
me ; I felt like I was cursed ; but that was 
on ’count of being so faint and weak. He 
cursed me ef he stumbled, and he cursed 
me ef I tried to hold him up, and he cursed 
me fer his shoes and stockings being 
stole. I bought a little quinine at a near 
drug-store, and I tuck some and give 
him some, to brace us both up to walk 
home. Down Garber Avenue and Chisell 
Avenue we walked — he went in front and 
I follered — two good miles to home.” 

“ See here !” said I, “ I do believe I saw 
you. Was it on a Sabbath morning in 
April?” 

“ Yes, it was,” said she, her pale cheeks 
flaming suddenly and a shocked look leap- 


3*5 


TIP'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


ing into her eyes. “ We did pass by your 
house on Chisell Avenue. Were you look- 
ing out?” “Yes,” said 1. “I’m sure I 
saw you ; the man was barefooted, and 
looked as if he had been lying in the 
mud ; and he was swearing at the woman. 
The woman wore a blue sun-bonnet and 
blue gingham dress ; she was as pale as 
death, and looked as if she could hardly 
walk ; the tears were running down her 
cheeks. I prayed for her and for him all 
day ; I could not get them out of my mind. 
If I had been dressed I would have gone 
down and spoken to her.” 

“ I wisht I ’d knowed it, ma’am ; it ’d 
a’ helped me mightily that day. I did n’t 
think any of the rich folks would be stir- 
ring so early Sunday morning. But I do 
believe your prayers helped me, fer that 
day was a turning-point with Jim. My 
baby was born before night, on the ’count 
of me walking all night long, and it died 


NANCY BURRIS’ STORY. 


37 


in jest three hours. And Jim, he thought 
I was a-going to die too, and he stayed 
with me and nussed me — seemed like he 
could n’t bear fer no one else to tech me 
nor lift me. And after I ’d got so ’s he 
could set things handy by the bed and 
leave me, and ever sence till now, he ’d 
take a little envelope on pay-day and have 
the boss put his wages in and seal it up ; 
ever sence then he ’s brought it home 
sealed up fer me to keep and manage. I 
don’t really think Jim has tasted liquor 
sence.” 

But I wanted to hear more about the 
checker-cure and Bill Bullitt. 

“ He told me how he nursed Bill Bullitt,” 
said I, “ and that the small-pox cured Bill 
of drinking for a while. Weren’t you 
dreadfully frightened about the small- 
pox? I don’t see how you could con- 
sent to its being brought into the house.” 

“Well, yes,” said she, stroking the un- 


38 


TIVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


finished mitten tenderly, “ I was' afeard 
of it, as any one would be ; but ever sence 
Jim’s worse got turned to better I ’ve kep’ 
trying to build him up that way. And 
jest as soon ’s he told me what he wanted, 
I thinks, says I, Jim ’s trying to do good, 
and that ’ll help him, and I ’m in for any- 
thing that ’ll help Jim. I knowed it ’d all 
come right somehow.” 

“ Were you not afraid you would lose 
Jim ?” I asked. 

“Well, now,” said she, “don’t you see 
I could n’t lose Jim ef he died good. I ’d 
have him ag’in after a little while. Death 
ha’ n’t the worst thing in this world. I ’ve 
seen lots of things worse than death.” 

“ But, then, what would you do when 
his wages were stopped ? You would not 
be allowed to stir abroad for work, and 
no one would hire work done in a house 
where there was small-pox,” I continued, 
trying to sound the depths of this woman’s 


JVAJVCV BURRIS’ STORY. 


39 

faith. “ Were n’t you afraid your children 
would suffer for food ?” 

“No, ma’am; workingmen don’t do 
each other that way. The boys at the 
shop, they seen what Jim was doing, and 
they kep’ us up. As sure as the day come 
round the money come to see it through, 
and things to eat, and medicines and fuel 
— everything I needed. One day they 
brought some liquor too; they said the 
sick men needed it to build them up. But 
I handed back the bottle to them, and I 
says, says I, ‘ Now look a-here, boys, I ’m 
a thousand times obliged to you fer all 
your kindness. You have showed your- 
selves good friends, but you can take back 
your money and your victuals and your 
medicines ef this has got to go along with 
them. I love my husband just enough 
to see him go up safe to heaven and leave 
me lonely here. I wont say one word of 
murmur ef the Lord takes everything I 


40 


Tff'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


love, but ef Jim Burris ever gits a smell 
of liquor in his breath ag’in, I ’ll holler 
murder till I git tuck up.’ And they never 
fetched another drop of it and never even 
offered beer to Jim at noon ag’in. I was 
most awful scared when Bill began to 
drink ag’in, fer I seen plain enough that 
Jim was gitting restless.” 

“ Why,” said I, interrupting her, “ he 
told me that it made him want some too, 
but that you did not suspect it.” 

For the first time she laughed and 
blushed, and made her needles fly at 
double-quick. 

“ Oh, I ’m Jim’s mind-reader,” said she ; 
“ he never has a thought that I can’t guess 
at somehow. I knowed the minute I 
looked at Jim that he and Bill would stand 
or fall together. So I went to work on 
Bill, and kep’ the evenings busy for them 
both ; Jim said he told you;” 

“Yes,” I said, “he told me all about 


NANCY BURRIS' STORY. 


41 


the games and books. That was a happy 
thought of yours.” 

“ It helped,” she answered modestly ; 
“ and I got a corn-popper too, and Jim, he 
made a little charcoal furnace that we 
could set right on the hearth and pop corn 
any time. I s’pose Jim, he forgot to tell 
you what a good singer he is. Well, he 
is a good singer, and him and me takes 
lots of comfort singing with the children. 
Bill, he liked it too, but nothing I knows 
on would ’a’ kep’ Bill only he was proud 
to know them games so ’s he could learn 
us how to play them. I never put my 
mind on anything so hard sence I tried 
to make up conundrums as I did to learn 
them games and give Bill something to 
do to beat me playing. 

“ Bill was a good feller. I don’t see 
why that girl treated him so. Poor thing, 
I do n’t believe she ’ll last long.” 

“ Where does she live ?” I asked. 


42 


TIVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Oh, right down the alley. I sometimes 
think I ’ll fetch her here ; but ef I was to 
seem like I was much tuck up with her it 
might wean Jim off from his home. I 
don’t know wh^t to do.” 

“Take me to see her,” said I. “ I have 
a little money I could spare, and maybe 
you would take charge of it and have her 
taken care of where she is.” 

“ Well, now,” said she, “ ef that do n’t 
beat the Dutch ! This very morning I 
begged the Lord to show me the way to 
see her through without upsetting Jim, 
and now He ’s sent you here with money in 
your pocket and good-will in your heart.” 

The woman showed her character in 
the way she rolled up all that knitting, 
laid it upon the shelf, shut up the blinds, 
and had me on the way to the sick-room 
in the alley before I could think twice. 




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SALLIE CARMEL’S STORY. 


43 


CHAPTER III. 

SALLIE Carmel’s story. 

For half a square I followed my thick- 
shod, sure-footed guide, picking my way 
among tin cans, broken bottles, and the 
heaps of garbage wasted by every Amer- 
ican family, however scanty be their fare, 
dreading to feel a sharp edge cutting my 
thin shoes ; and then she half pushed, half 
knocked upon a door which instantly 
reeled back upon its only hinge and 
leaned unsteadily against the wall. 

“Sallie, here’s the lady Jim soldered 
fer. She said she was a-coming to see 
me and she come, and I “ve fetched — . 
Why, Sallie, she ’s a nice lady. Wont you 
see her, Sallie ?” 

For, after a sharp glance at me, my 
dress and bonnet, the dark-eyed girl on 


44 


Tlf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


the low bed drew up the sheet over her 
face and began to cry. Evidently she 
knew me, but the brief glimpse I had 
had of her face did not suggest any one 
in particular to me. 

After an ineffectual effort to persuade 
her to uncover her face, Nancy Burris and 
I began to talk about various little tricks 
useful to know in raising calves and lambs 
and babies, and presently Nancy reached 
across the sobbing form outlined beneath 
the quilt and lifted out the baby to show 
it to me. 

I took it in my arms ; it was a baby with 
a face — a baby six weeks old, with small, 
wise countenance and quiet eyes. There 
was an expression of endurance about the 
closed mouth quite different from the 
blessed, silly look of the thrifty child of 
happy parents. 

“ This baby looks as if it had suffered, 
” said I. 


SALLIE CARMEL’S STORY. 


45 

“ Indeed it has, ma’am. I ’ll wash it 
now and show you. The doctor says it ’s 
‘ bursted.’ ” said this good Samaritan, 
pouring warm water which she had 
brought with her from home into a basin, 
and getting various little things together 
for the baby’s toilet. 

“ The docter says it ’s ‘ bursted,’ and 
you can’t buy them little braces little 
enough fer it now, but when it gits bigger 
it kin have something bought fer it.” 

Together we took off the scanty cloth- 
ing, and I clasped the baby in my arms 
with a curious thrilling memory of one of 
my own stout youngsters who began life 
just so. 

“ Mrs. Burris,” said I, after a little ex- 
amination, “ ‘ you can claim the fee and 
I’ll pay it,’ as you said to the policeman, 
‘ but I ’ll do the doctoring ’ this time.” 

“ Why, do you think you can help the 
baby?” she asked, sponging and drying 


46 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


the little limbs with deftest, gentlest 
hands. 

“ I do,” said I. “ I cured one of my 
children of a similar injury with two big 
buttons, a bit of broad whalebone, and 
three months’ steady care. I think I 
learned my lesson thoroughly enough to 
venture to practise it now.” 

Down went the covers from the flushed 
face on the bed. The mother’s heart 
was asserting itself. 

“ Mrs. Baldwin, can you help my baby ?” 
she asked eagerly. 

I explained to her the nature of the 
trouble, and the simple, easy cure, and she 
directed me, with some embarrassment, 
to look in a certain bureau-drawer where 
I might find both bones and buttons. 
There were many things in that drawer — 
piles of remnants of embroideries and 
laces, papers of pins and needles, scrap 
pictures from bolts of muslin, ends of 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 47 

ribbons, half cards of buttons, odd hair- 
pins, and the like. Evidently the man in 
jail was not the only light-fingered mem- 
ber of the family. A little search among 
these odds and ends disclosed the articles 
desired, and in a few minutes they were 
put together and fastened in the baby’s 
band, and the little fellow went to sleep. 

During the bandaging and dressing I 
often glanced at the brown eyes that 
watched our movements, and at the hands, 
which somehow had a more familiar look 
than had the face. Where had I seen 
those slender, perfect hands ? They said 
she had been a clerk in a fancy store. 
There used to be a girl in Burk’s who 
had just such hands, but she had golden 
hair, and this girl’s hair was faded brown. 

That girl used to pet her hands like 
babies ; nay, they caressed each other as 
if each admired the other and was jealous 
lest some other hand should touch it. She 


48 


TH'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


always wore a bit of wide lace falling over 
her wrists. And when she looked among 
the boxes for a size or pattern one would 
have thought that she was blind and had 
to find the label by the touch. 

Just such hands lay on the dark quilt 
now, a little thinner, but exquisite still. 
But there seemed to be such a gulf be- 
tween the jaunty little beauty in Burk’s 
fancy store and this sad-eyed creature in 
the miserable den, that I waited for her 
to speak and tell me if she chose. 

“You don’t know me, Mrs. Baldwin,’’ 
she said at length, interrupting Nancy’s 
kindly talk. 

“lam not sure,’’ said I. “You remind 
me very much of a young girl in Burk’s, 
but I have not ‘ shopped ’ much lately, and 
have not missed any one from there.’’ 

“Well, that’s where I clerked,” said 
she.” I ’ve matched buttons and edgings 
for you many a time. I sold you that trim- 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 


49 


ming on your skirt.” And she leaned 
down from her low trundle-bed to look at 
the white scallops which lay on the floor 
in sight, as the baby had disarranged my 
dress. “ And I have a little piece just like 
it in that drawer,” she continued after a 
moment’s scrutiny with her experienced 
eyes. 

“ Well,” said I, “ only this week I dis- 
covered that a few inches of it needed 
to be replaced; but I have had it so 
long that it seemed useless to try to 
match it.” 

She smiled and begged me to get out 
the package of wide edgings, and, in- 
stantly selecting the exact pattern, she 
laid it in my hand. The piece was marked 
“ i| yards for 6o cents.” The original 
price was seventy-five cents a yard. For 
a moment I hesitated about acting as a 
receiver of stolen goods ; then I reflected 
that I had better make my way first into 
4 


5 ° 


TfrO NOBLE WOMEN. 


her confidence and trust that by and by 
she might be influenced to return this 
and the rest of the things to their rightful 
owner. So I thanked her and put it in 
my pocket, intending never to unfold it 
for my own use. 

But she was watching me intently, and 
presently she said, in a hesitating way, 
“ Mrs. Baldwin, there is something I ’ve 
wanted a chance to ask you. Do you 
recollect one day you told me I had won- 
derful quick eyes ? And I says I wished 
they was quick for everything. And you 
said most folks has sharp eyes for other 
folks’ faults, and I says mine was wonder- 
ful quick for that. And you leaned over 
the counter, and says you, ‘ My dear, the 
Lord has given every one of us a pair 
of eyes to look into ourselves with and 
to look at him with, and that when these 
are busy the others have not much to do.’ 
Many a time I ’ve thought of that and 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 51 

wondered what you meant by it. Was 
that out of the Bible-book ?” 

What a wave of shame rolled over me 
when I heard that ! How many times I 
had turned over trimmings with her, or 
measured buttons or matched crewels, and 
after all these opportunities I had only 
planted a question in her mind — I, who 
owned a score of Bibles, big and little, 
plain and ornamental, Bibles of all the 
new editions, Bibles that begin with Gen- 
esis and end with Revelation, and Bibles 
that are hardly more than introductions 
to the concordance, the dictionary, and 
chronological tables within the same two 
lids. And this was all that my Bibles 
and my knowledge of them had done for 
this poor sinner ! 

I tried in a broken, stammering way to 
explain my meaning, and she listened as 
thirsty travellers listen for the murmur of 
a far-off brook or the pattering of the rain. 


52 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Oh, I wisht you ’d told me that then !” 
she cried ; “ it might have made every- 
thing different these last two years.” 

“I wish I had,” I answered, “and if 
you will let me come to see you often I 
will try to do my duty to you and to my 
Saviour. Besides, Mrs. Carmel, you know 
I have undertaken to cure this baby, so 
I will have to call and see my little 
patient.” 

She cast one quick, pained glance at 
Nancy Burris, and then, with crimson face 
and eyes fixed on a bed-post, she began 
with a trembling voice to tell a sad, old 
story, a story little differing from some I 
had heard before, and that enhanced its 
sadness. 

“ I do n’t expect that neither one of you 
will ever come near me again,” said she, 
“ but I ’m going to tell the truth because 
I think you can tell me what to do ; and 
if there ’s any help for my case in your 


SALUE CARMEL'S STORY. 


53 


Bible-book, and if you ’re willing I should 
have it, I ’d like to have it. 

“ You called me ‘ Mrs. Carmel,’ and 
that ’s the name I go by ; but I ’m no 
‘ Mrs.’ in the law.” Nancy and I met each 
other’s eyes ; hers were full of tears and 
mine were brimming, and the girl went 
on ; “ My name is Sallie Fowler, and his 
name is Henry Clay Cromwell. Us girls 
got to calling him ‘ Clay Caramel,’ be- 
cause he always kept his pockets full of 
cheap caramels and they had a behind- 
taste of clay. And we kept it up till ‘ Car- 
mel ’ come to be his name. Him and I 
got to going together and kept company 
for a few weeks. Then one night we was 
to a party where they was playing games. 
They took it into their heads to have a 
mock wedding, and they said me and Clay 
Carmel was the best looking couple and 
must stand up, and they ’d save us a fee. 

“ Well, we ’d had wine two or three 


54 


TJVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


times a’ready and was ready for most any 
wild sport. So we stood up and tuck 
a-hold of hands, and one of the boys 
married us and even said his prayer. 
Then they all wished us well, and when 
we started home they threw old shoes 
after us and laughed and joked us as far 
as we could hear. And, I don’t know, 
I b’lieve it kind of seemed to me like I 
was married. When we got most to Clay’s 
boarding-house he took out his night-key, 
and says he, ‘ I consider that you are my 
wife now, and there ’s lots of people gets 
married without no more fuss than we 
was. So I ’m going to keep you in my 
care and take you home with me.’ I 
can’t say if I did say anything ag’in’ it. 
I think now it was the wine made my 
will weak ; like as not they put something 
in it, though Clay says he never done it 
nor let it be done. 

“ In the morning we made it up to tell 


SALLIE CARMEL’S STORY. 55 

that we stopped to a preacher’s house on 
the way home and had the knot tied 
reg’lar. And Clay, whenever the fellers 
pushed him fer the preacher’s name, 
would make out like he was dying a-laugh- 
ing to think how the preacher looked with 
his hair all over his head and his galluses 
a-hanging and a nightcap dodging up to 
the head of the stairs, trying to peek at 
us without us seeing. And the way he ’d 
tell it and act it out, they ’d git to laugh- 
ing and forgit what they was after. But 
it was n’t no laughing matter to me. Time 
and time I begged Clay to go with me 
and git married in the law. But he al- 
ways said that would let it all out and 
we ’d never hear the last of it ; and we 
must save up money to go to some other 
town, where we could go and fix it right 
and none of our set would n’t hear of it. 

“ He did stick to me better than I had 
any idee of. There is other girls in this 


5*5 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


square in the same fix as I ’m in (though 
they do n’t know how it is with me), and 
their men don’t act like they cared what 
become of them ; they keep them scared 
all the time threatening to leave them. 
But even if Clay is good to me it is n’t like 
being married safe and sure. And how 
do I know if he ’ll come back to me when 
he gits out ? I have n’t got a scrap of 
paper to show for it — and here ’s my 
baby.” 

As I looked at the fair young thing, too 
sorrowful to cry as she told her story — 
perhaps past crying any more over any- 
thing — I thought of my own boys and 
girls, invited to parties and tempted with 
wine. If this child and her lover had not 
drunk the wine which blunted their un- 
trained consciences and led them into sin 
which even their scanty ideas of morality 
would not allow when sober, she might 
still be petting her hands at Burk’ s and 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 


57 


he be selling silks at Swinton’s. The uni- 
verse is too small to hold one such sad 
heart without a throb of pain from centre 
to circumference; yet there were others, 
more than one, in that same square ! 

“ How long must Clay be — away yet ?” 
I asked. 

“ Why, six months, half a year more !” 
she answered, with some fire, “and just 
for taking a little end of silk to make me 
a basque. The floor-walker always did 
have a spite ag’n’ Clay, and all the clerks 
know it, and so he was keen after him. 
Oh, they can see a good deal when they 
want to, and they can be blind enough too 
if their pets is concerned.” 

I could not help thinking that the floor- 
walker at Burt’s must have kept his blind 
side turned towards this pretty, brown- 
eyed girl, with her exquisite “ light ” fin- 
gers. 

“ May I go and see Clay?” I asked. 


58 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


She turned and looked at me as if she 
would measure my soul, then snatched 
my hand and kissed it. “ Give Clay that 
hand when you meet him, and tell him I 
sent a kiss in it,” she said ; and the color 
left her face, and Nancy sprang to get the 
bottle from the little shelf lest she should 
faint. We stayed a while, until her pulse 
beat evenly once more, and left her, prom- 
ising to return the next day. 

“ You knowed her by her hands,” said 
Nancy, as we retraced our steps among the 
refuse to the street. ” Poor Bill’s hands 
did n’t reely look fit to tech hem, and I 
will always ’low that ’s why she went back 
on him ; but my ! Bill ’d never served a 
woman sech a trick as that : no more ’d 
Jim ; and nary one of them ’d ’a’ stole, not 
fer the queen ! But do you reely mean to 
go to see the man ?” 

“ I do,” said I, “ and perhaps get his 
term shortened and see him married to 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 


59 


Sallie, for I believe it is the worry and 
the shame that keep her down as much 
as sickness.” 

” Well,” said she, giving my hand a part- 
ing grip that split my glove and drove a 
ring into my fingers, “ Jim said, when he 
come home from soldering your gutter, 
and told me how he had a talk with you, 
he says, says he, ‘ I ’ve ' seen a woman you 
or me could go to in the day of trouble.’ 
And I says, says I, ‘ That ’s a sight I never 
seen yit, the person I could carry troubles 
to,’ but I ’ve got a good hold of her hand 
all the same.” And she wrung it till I was 
glad there were tears already in my eyes, 
and we separated. 

The sun was still high, my tea was all 
arranged for, my dear mother was at my 
house for that day to welcome the children 
home from school, my husband would not 
leave his office for nearly two hours yet, 
so I hailed a passing car and soon stood 


6o 


Tff'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


knocking at the door of the jail. Very 
easily the door opened to admit Judge 
Baldwin’s wife, and the prisoner I desired 
to see was brought down to the office. 

We recognized each other instantly. 
More than one dress pattern had those 
taper fingers measured and folded for me. 
He wept when I showed him where Sallie 
had just now kissed my hand. 

“ Truly, Mrs. Baldwin,” said he, ” I do 
mean to do right by Sallie just as soon as 
I get out. I will do right by her and the 
baby.” 

He was the same gentlemanly-looking 
fellow still, in spite of his striped clothes 
and his close-cut hair, and it stirred my 
heart to see him there. 

“ I have been thinking a good deal since 
I come here, and I tell you I have respect 
for Sallie, though I never could make her 
believe it, and I made up my mind that it 
was the wine that done the mischief. If 










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SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 


6l 


I had n’t had it I ’d never tried to lead her 
astray. And when I do get out I ’ll stand 
by her and the baby.” 

“ What judge sentenced you ?” I asked. 

“ Why, Judge Baldwin sentenced me,” 
said he. “ I wondered then if he was any 
kin to Mrs. Baldwin that used to trade at 
our store. Is he, now ?” 

” He is my husband,” I answered joy- 
fully, "and the way begins to clear be- 
fore me now. I think I must see if I 
cannot ‘lay down the law’ to him a lit- 
tle.” 

‘‘He spoke very kind to me, ma’am, 
when he sentenced me,” said the man, 
“and he said he would gladly do any- 
thing for me he could do proper.” 

“Well, Mr. Cromwell,” said I, after a 
little thought, “ I shall have to tell him 
you are sorry and will never steal again, if 
I ask him to shorten your term. And I 
shall have to see your employers, too, and 


62 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


make it right with them. What shall I 
say for you?” 

“ I ’ll just tell you the right down truth,” 
the man exclaimed. “ I am sorry and I 
am ashamed, and I would like a chance to 
prove it. If I could get back behind the 
silk counter the ‘ house ’ would never lose 
nothing more by me.” 

“Did you ever take anything else?” I 
asked, determined to know the worst about 
this man before I became his ally. 

“ That ’s the most I ever took, ma’am, 
that remnant of Satin de Lyons. There 
was some other few little things. Some- 
times when I’d be drawing the covers 
over the stock a little piece would fall and 
nobody see it, and I ’d easy slip it in my 
pocket. Many’s the time I wished I 
had n’t done it since I come here. And 
then another thing: they is some ladies 
that never counts up the change, but just 
stuffs it in their pocket-books, and the 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 63 

clerks comes to know them for it. Some- 
times when one of them kind sent up cash 
on my ticket and the change come back 
in a good few pieces, I slipped a dime or 
a quarter up my sleeve. Them I know I 
can’t pay back, but I ’ll never do it again. 
Mrs. Baldwin, you don’t know what a 
hard life most of the clerks sees. It ’s 
small pay they get, and they have to dress 
nice and keep a good face on, no matter 
what goes wrong. I ’ve knowed a floor- 
walker to tell a clerk he ’d have to pay for 
a mistake he ’d made, and it was just the 
amount of his month’s rent. And then, if 
the feller looked kind o’ struck and hurt, 
he ’d tell him if he couldn’t put on a better 
face for customers than that he could pass 
in his check-book. The tinner and the car- 
penter or mason, most any other tradesman^ 
they can look as they feel, so long ’s they 
do their work right, and they can stand 
and cuss their luck the whole day long. 


64 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


But the salesman has to look pleasant if 
his heart is breaking and everything on 
the footstool’s going wrong. And the 
workingmen can save on clothes, too. 
When they wear out they can wear them 
patched or ragged if their women a’ n’t 
good at mending, and they get better pay 
when all is told. Me and Sallie had to 
pinch our stomachs to put on our backs. 
Many a time we ’ve dressed ourselves up 
to go down town, and had to go on 
cheese and crackers, and little enough of 
that.” 

“ Why,” said I, after a silent calculation, 
“ did you spend everything on dress and 
the bare necessities of life? Did you 
spend nothing for amusements ?” 

His eyes fell before mine and he replied 
with some confusion, “Well, we had to 
go to the theatre, you know; it was all 
that kep’ us up. And we had to have 
candy.” 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 65 

“ So one thing you kept back change for 
was to go to the theatre ?” I asked. 

“ Yes, ma’am, that is the truth,” said 
he. “ It seemed like we had to go two or 
three times a week to keep our minds off 
of our troubles.” 

“ And there were some extra expenses 
involved in that,” I continued. 

“ Oh, yes,” he answered, “ Sallie had to 
have white gloves and a nice hat to go in, 
and that cost money too.” 

“Has what you saw and heard there 
been a source of comfort to you since you 
came here ?” I asked. 

“ No, ma’am, it really hasn’t. It ’s more 
like ‘ dead ’ cigar smoke than anything 
else to think of, and I feel like my whole 
life has been make-believe, like the plays. 
And it has been, too,” said this man, bent 
on telling the “whole truth” for once at 
least. “ It has been make-believe, just a 
perfect farce. Look at the Burrises now. 

5 


66 


TIVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


They have plenty to eat and it ’s paid for ; 
and they rent the one house from year’s 
end to year’s end. They do n’t put on no 
style, but I know they take more comfort 
of life than me and Sallie ever did. Why, 
we’ve moved as high as four and six 
times in one year; pay first month in 
advance and ‘ cheek ’ the landlord till he 
puts us out, and try it over somewheres 
else. We a’ n’t had homes, just roosts. 

I want to have a good long talk with Sal- 
lie whenever I get out, and see if we can’t ' 
begin again and begin right. Seems like 
I ’ll fly when I think of her lying sick in 
that old hole, and all she ’s went through 
with alone, and me here locked up and 
can’t do nothing. And then, what will I 
do when I do get out ? I get three meals 
a day here, but who’s a-going to give 
me anything to do after what I ’ve been 
through ? I’m like the feller in the play, 

I ’m ‘ Marked for Life.’ ” 


SALLIE CARMEL'S STORY. 67 

y 

' “ Well,” said I, rising to go, “ I will 
talk to my husband about you, and I will 
attend to Sallie’s wants while you are 
kept away from her. And I want you to 
kneel down night and morning and ask 
God to bless and guide me in whatever I 
try to do for you and her. These days 
when you are not otherwise employed 
you can make precious days, the best days 
of your life, by learning about God and 
his Son who died for you. You can be 
getting ready for heaven here as well as 
anywhere, and the Holy Spirit will abide 
with you here. It wont be the first time 
that God and the angels have visited a 
jail. Have you access to a Bible every 
day?” 

“ No, ma’am,” said he, “ there is no 
reading here only a song-book, a dream- 
book, and an old city directory.” 

Just then four policemen entered bear- 
ing between them a screaming, cursing. 


68 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


clawing woman, half naked and wholly 
frantic ; and I took a hasty leave before 
they had agreed upon the safest way to 
loose their hold upon her. 

I hastened to the nearest bookstore and 
bought a Bible ; and after laying slips of 
paper in where the angel opened the doors 
for Peter, and where Paul and Silas sang 
hymns in prison, and marking several 
passages in the Saviour’s life, I ordered it 
to be delivered at the jail for my prisoner 
and hastened home. ^ 


" IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 69 


CHAPTER IV. 

“in prison, and ye visited me.” 

“What is it that thou desirest of me, 
Queen Rachel? for I perceive that thou 
art trying to find courage to ask a favor. 
Behold, it is granted already, be it the 
half of my kingdom, or the hole in my 
pocket.” Thus spoke my husband, after 
the youngsters had butted their heads into 
their pillows for the last time and forgot- 
ten to recede for another blow. And he 
looked at me with cross-examining eyes. 
They say he never fails to “bare false 
witness” when once he has caught the 
liar’s eye. 

“ I want a man out of jail, John,” I an- 
swered boldly. 

“ Am I not ‘ a man out of jail,’ and am 
I not sufficient for thee, oh most gracious 


70 


Tlf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


queen?” said he, without taking his keen 
eyes from my face. 

I had to laugh, although the tears had 
very nearly started first. “Now, John,” 
said I, “ this is no laughing matter.” And 
I told him all about the Burrises and Crom- 
wells, or “Caramels.” “He wants to try 
it over and be good,” I said in conclusion, 
“ and Sallie needs his care.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said he ; “ ‘ when the devil 
was in prison, the devil a saint would be ; 
but when the devil got out, the devil a 
saint was he !’ ” 

“ Besides quoting incorrectly, you are 
mistaken about the man,” I exclaimed a 
little warmly ; “ he does not even think 
of being a ‘ saint,’ and he has surely had 
nothing about him to suggest the idea. 
Just think, John, the circulating library in 
that jail consists of a song-book, a dream- 
book, and an old city directory !” 

How he laughed ! 


“IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 71 

“The dream-book certainly suggests 
the story of Joseph at the period of his 
life when he was similarly situated,” said 
he. “ And a new city directory might be 
valuable as a sailing-chart for next voyage, 
to an incarcerated burglar ; but to be shut 
up with an old city directory ! They might 
use it for curl-papers, but they do not wear 
their hair!” And he laughed till he 
cried. 

“ In which of those volumes did you 
mark passages for his devotions ?” he con- 
tinued, drying his eyes. “ Or did you — 
yes, I see it in your face. You bought a 
Bible before you came home, and ordered 
it sent to your address at the County Jail. 
Why, Rachel, are you crying? Come 
here, my gentle queen, and let me tell 
you all about it. I saw that the fellow 
was a pretty honest sort of a thief, and 
only needed to have his conscience en- 
lightened a little ; so I made his sentence 


72 


TU'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


as light as possible, and I cannot very 
well shorten it. You and Nancy can make 
Sallie more comfortable than he could; 
and I ’ll add a few Patent-Office Reports 
and booksellers’ catalogues to the jail col- 
lection. They will infuse a higher moral 
tone into the minds of the prisoners who 
know how to read, and counteract the 
effect of so much light literature. But 
what would you do with the man if I 
should let him out? They will not take 
him back at Swinton’s, and he will not 
find a place anywhere else without recom- 
mendations. You will have him on your 
hands if you touch him, mark my words !” 

He placed his slippered feet upon the 
mantel, and fell to reading a book he had 
brought home, as a hungry man would 
fall to eating. 

I took my knitting. Somehow the click- 
ing of the needles suggested Nancy Bur- 
ris’ strong, healthy nature. How our nee- 


“ IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 73 

dies clicked as we sat and talked that very 
day ! I went to her house to hear about 
Bill Bullitt and to see for myself if three 
black and three white checkers were mis- 
sing from the board. And before the day 
had closed I found myself yoked with her 
to try to save two souls “ from torment.” 

“ What can two women do ?*’ I asked 
myself despondingly, and like a flash there 
came into my mind a little paragraph I 
had seen somewhere about ciphers ranged 
on the right side of one. “ Jesus is One ; 
now add the ciphers, and read what you 
have written,” said the writer. 

“ Sure enough. He is One, and Nancy 
and I are ciphers,” I reflected. “Then 
where He leads and we follow we shall 
be a hundred strong !” 

That thought brought strength and 
soothing to my weary brain. I put away 
my knitting and went to bed, and drop- 
ped asleep just like a baby. 


74 


T1V0 NOBLE WOMEN. 


Ciphers are of no consequence except 
they are beside the one, on the working 
side. The Lord’s strength will be shown 
only when all his ciphers stand by him, 
on the working side. As a captain with- 
out soldiers, as a king without subjects, is 
Christ without his redeemed ones; they 
are ciphers but for him, and he is but One 
without them. 

Saillie cried a little when I told her, the 
next day, that Clay could not come yet ; 
but the poor little baby soon diverted her 
from her own trouble. She had not un- 
derstood my directions, and it began to 
look as if I would have to administer my 
treatment myself. Nancy and I easily 
made him comfortable for the time being, 
and I tried again to instruct the feeble 
young mother in the use of the simple 
appliance for his relief : but after leaving 
her I felt more and more convinced that 
she would not succeed alone. 


V 


" IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 75 

What should be done ? I could not take 
up my abode there for three months ; and 
as Nancy said she “ did n’t feel free to 
spile Jim ’s home by keeping her there,” 
I knew it would go far to mar John’s 
happiness if I took her home with me. 

But after making it a subject of prayer 
all day I broached the matter “ partridge- 
fashion ” — as he said I always did — on this 
wise : 

“ John, can I have all the caramels I 
want for the next three months?” 

“ Why ! are they gone already ?” he 
asked with a startled face. “You will 
be asking if you can have false teeth 
next.” 

“ No, they ’re not all gone,” I answered 
in as steady tones as I could possibly 
maintain “ but I want more, enough to 
last three months.” 

“ And then, if I give you the money to 
buy caramels, you ’ll go and deny your- 


76 


TH'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


self caramels altogether and send the 
money to buy caramels for the little hea- 
then,” said this experienced man and 
sharp lawyer. 

“ It ’s heathen caramels I want, John,” 
said 1. The partridge does sometimes 
walk back to its nest under the eyes of the 
hunters. Now I had reached my nest 
to do or die. “ I ’m afraid that Sallie, 
and the baby too, will die if they stay 
where they are, and the baby will not 
have proper care at the hospital. Do n’t 
you remember how I had to give my 
whole mind and time to curing Robbie ? 
This baby would have no such care at the 
hospital as I gave Robbie. I want to bring 
them here and keep them in the trunk- 
room. And then John ?” — the partridge 
was growing bolder now and trying to 
turn the muzzle of the piece towards the 
hunter — “and then John, don’t you re- 
member how a certain king used to send 


“ IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 77 

messes from his table daily to three hun- 
dred princes ? I think we might send up 
a daily mess from our table to one of the 
King’s daughters, don’t you, John?” 

He cleared his throat and tried to say 
something quizzical about my agreeing 
not to make “ a mess ” of his table, and 
gave me a kiss that sounded like the 
Fourth of July, and went down town to 
his office. 

I was surprised to see what a very 
superior place for trunks my attic proved 
to be, and what a cosey little bedroom the 
trunks had called their own. And so 
from that square where there were many 
aching hearts one was gently carried to 
that pleasant room. 

A slender, sad-faced girl from the next 
room helped us get her ready for removal, 
a girl refined in speech and bearing, and 
showing a degree of dignity which won 
my admiration. 


78 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Who was that, Sallie ?” I asked, as 
soon as we had fairly started. 

“ That ’s Flora Hunter, ma’am, and 
she’s as nice as she can be!” was the 
warm response. 

“ What is her trouble ?” I asked. “ Is 
she one of the girls who are afraid of 
being deserted?” 

“ No, ma’am, but most as bad. She 
has a gambling husband, and he ’s gone 
off and left her and her baby, and she ’s 
just about ready to give up. I ’ve been 
coaxing her to write to her father; but 
she says, when she loses her mind she 
will write to him, and not before.” 

I resolved to lay that case before my 
neighbor, a lady who was very zealous 
in talking about charity, and always gave 
me to understand that it would not be safe 
for any one to show her an opportunity 
for doing good unless he really meant 
that she should do it. 


« IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 79 

“ There is nothing more pathetic in 
the Bible,” I reflected, “ then the condi- 
tion of things in that square. Surely she 
will only need a hint.” 

The pretty girl looked comfortable 
enough in her clean, soft bed in the old 
trunk-room, with her baby by her side 
gazing quietly with patient eyes at the 
flowers on the walls. She began to sit up 
in a few days. The “ one mess ” from our 
table was working a miracle upon the 
famished creature. The dark hollows 
under her eyes were shallowing and fad- 
ing, and her lips were reddening again. 
Still she looked sad, unsatisfied, and as 
her strength came back a restlessness 
came with it. 

Nancy noticed this. She came nearly 
every day “ to knit a few rounds in good 
company,” and finally she diagnosed the 
case and made a prescription for it. 

“ Sometimes they let a man out of jail 


8o 


TfTO NOBLE WOMEN. 


fer a couple of hours with a police along,” 
she drew me into the bathroom one day 
to whisper, “and I believe if that man 
could git out long enough to give his 
name to that girl and the child, so ’s her 
mind ’d be settled on that p’int oncet fer 
all, she ’d git well.” 

Sure enough ! As her bodily strength 
increased her mind renewed its power to 
suffer. What wonder ? Who of us would 
care for returning health, knowing that 
we might be deserted, with a nameless 
child to care for ? 

I insisted that Nancy should carry out 
her own idea as soon as possible, and she 
confided the management of the business 
part to Jim, who “ laid oflE ” half a day to 
attend to it, and so we had a wedding in 
the trunk-room. 

There was no boisterous fun about this 
wedding ; there were far more tears at this 
one than there was laughter at the other a 


'• IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 8 1 

year or two before, when those two stood 
up for fun and “a fellow even said his 
prayer.” 

Nancy’s pastor was called in to tie the 
knot and bless it, and he came promptly — 
a plain and good man, truly glad to help 
a jail-bird take the first right step. 

Nancy and I had a discussion about 
telling Sallie about it beforehand, and she 
decided that the surprise would hurt her 
more than the excitement of thinking long 
about it. So we only told her that some 
old neighbors were coming to see her, 
and she tidied herself a little and sat 
down quietly to sew for the baby. I 
never saw her look so pretty in her care- 
less days ; only the sorrowful little droop 
at the corners of her mouth marred her 
loveliness. 

While we waited for the party expected 
from the jail I visited the kitchen to see 

if a certain little “ mess ” of cake and cof- 
6 


82 


TH'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


fee promised to be in prime condition, and 
I found, skulking in at the back-door with 
a basket of grapes and bananas, my hus- 
band. 

“ Thought maybe they would improve 
the flavor of the caramels, though no one 
asked me to the wedding,” he stammered, 
blushing like a rose. 

“John, you are beautiful ! Would you 
come up !” I exclaimed. 

“Would I? Try me. If you ’ll agree 
to hide me under the baby or somewhere,” 
said he. And then, to atone for his appar- 
ent “benevolence prepense,” he proceeded 
to say, 

“ After all my forbearance towards him 
in giving him only one year, he wants to 
put on the matrimonial ball and chain for 
life ! I consider it my duty to warn him 
and tell him my experience.” 

I did not feel quite equal to replying to 
that dreadfully insincere speech, so it was 


" IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 83 

well that the party from the jail arrived 
just then, and that Nancy flew into the 
kitchen with her apron over her eyes. 

“ I can’t tell her, Mrs. Baldwin ; you 
must do it. I ’m afeared I made a mistake 
that I didn’t give her an idee of it.” So 
I went up, my heart beating hard, telling 
the rest to wait below a moment. 

I opened her door and said, “Sallie, 
there is to be a wedding here to-day. Can 
we have it in your room ?” 

“ Why, certainly, Mrs. Baldwin,” said 
she, smiling. “Is the cook being mar- 
ried?” 

“ No, my dear,” said I, putting my arms 
around her, “ it is a sweet and good woman 
who was married in fun a year or so ago, 
and I ’m going to see her made happy and 
safe to-day.” 

For a moment she trembled and leaned 
on me, and then she turned and walked to 
the window and stood looking out. 


84 


Tff^O NOBLE WOMEN. 


I opened the door and beckoned to them 
to come up — Nancy, Jim, the police- 
man, Clay Cromwell, the minister, and the 
judge. 

She turned and bowed without a word, 
then took her seat beside the baby ; her 
face was like a stone. The minister and 
I made an attempt to talk about the 
weather for a minute, and then, noticing 
the distressed face of the man just from 
jail, I said, “ If this is a wedding party I 
think somebody had better be getting 
wedded.” 

Then the minister asked them to stand 
up and take each other by the hand. 
Without stirring in her chair Sallie looked 
steadily at Clay. 

“ Clay Cromwell, was you forced to come 
here and marry me ?” 

“ No, Sallie,” said the man, meeting her 
gaze with honest eyes, “ I come of my own 
wishes. I want all these here friends to 


» IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 85 

hear me say I love you and want you for 
my wife. Will you marry me and be a 
mother to my poor little boy ?” 

She stretched out both her arms to him, 
he sprang across the room and knelt be- 
side her, and the minister began the mar- 
riage service. And so, clasped in each 
other’s arms, with tears and kisses they 
took the vows so long delayed. We were 
all crying. Even the policeman wiped his 
eyes. The baby stirred during the prayer 
and the judge took it up and hushed it in 
his arms. And the bosom of the little 
dress was wet with tears when he laid it 
down. 

And after all was over, while the mother 
showed the baby to the father who had 
never seen his child, my John put his 
handkerchief into his pocket with an air 
of resolution, and wanted to know if there 
was n’t “ some sort of a little ‘ mess ’ lying 
about down stairs that ought to come up 


86 


TIFO NOBLE WOMEN. 


stairs?” and strode away for it straight- 
way, with Nancy at his heels. 

How he pressed refreshments upon that 
policeman ! And how he filled his cup 
and plate, over and over, despite his pro- 
tests ! And how many questions he asked 
about certain late arrests ! And how many 
arguments he provoked and fostered be- 
tween him and Jim to while away the 
time ! 

And when the man did finally realize 
how long he had stayed, he was almost 
afraid to go back and report himself. So 
the poor young couple on the other side 
of the room had time for a long, quiet 
talk over the baby boy before the father 
was taken back to prison to serve his 
sentence out. 

“I will see what can be done towards 
finding employment for you, Mr. Crom- 
well,” said my husband, shaking hands 
with the prisoner at the door. “ And, Mr. 


"IN PRISON, AND YE VISITED ME." 87 

Burris, I am very much pleased to have 
made your acquaintance.” 

And after Jim and Nancy went away 
he remarked that they were certainly peo- 
ple of uncommon sense and intelligence. 

” Are they not very remarkable people 
in their class ?” he persisted, as I made no 
response. 

“No,” said I, “I don’t think they are. 
There are hundreds of just such men and 
women hurrying up and down our streets 
with dinner-pails and baskets, every night 
and morning. There are plenty of unset 
jewels in the world, and if you would see 
them flash you need but to come close 
to them.” 

“ Well,” said he obstinately, “ I still 
think they are far above the average 
working people.” 

“ I think,” said I, “ that if your mem- 
ory is good, I can recall a little incident 
to you which will interest you.” 


88 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Do you remember that April when 
baby was so sick? Yes? Well, now try 
to recall that Sabbath morning when I 
told you about a man and woman who 
passed our house at four o’clock. The 
man was barefooted and muddy, and stag- 
gered along in front, cursing the woman. 
She followed, in a clean, bright gingham 
dress and bonnet ; the tears were running 
over her white cheeks, and she could but 
just walk. You do remember? Well, 
they were Jim and Nancy Burris." 

There was no response from John. 

He was busy looking for the pieces of 
that theory. 




BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 89 


CHAPTER V. 

"BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 

“ When I went back to Sallie, I found 
her nursing the baby. She looked up 
with a quiet smile and said, “ I ’ll never 
doubt no more that the Lord is good, for 
he has answered the main prayer I ’ve 
tried to make since you got me in the 
notion of praying. And now I ’m a-going 
to keep asking for a place for Clay and 
me and the baby, when he gets out. 
There must be some way for me and Clay 
to live together right, for Clay, he says 
he ’s praying too. But ” — after a mo- 
ment’s musing — “ it would n’t be the 
worst thing that could happen if we had 
to. starve, if we could go to heaven to- 
gether. We ’ve seen worse things a’ready 
than going there together for want of 
honest bread.” 


90 


TIVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


So I left her ; she had " meat to eat ” 
that was better than any I could gfive 
her. 

The Judge’s lamp was lighted, as usual, 
that night, but the book lay on the table. 
John was not inclined to read. 

“ I declare !” he broke out, after a half- 
hour’s silence, “ I never saw anything in 
life to equal the way that girl asked 
him if he came because he had to ! She 
wouldn’t have had him if he had said 
‘ Yes,’ and I liked her spirit. Never knew 
a man to live with a woman yet when he 
had been compelled to marry her. And 
then did you see how he began at the be- 
ginning, just like a gentleman ? He had 
never asked her to marry him, so he de- 
liberately popped the question then and 
there. And didn’t he shoulder the baby 
like a hero ? Asked her if she would ‘ be 
a mother to /its poor little boy,’ and he had 
never seen the child till that minute ! 


" BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 91 

Well, I never saw anything finer in the 
court-room or anywhere !” 

Then, his excitement having a little 
evaporated, his sense of humor began to 
assert itself. 

“ I say, Rachel, that was a short engage- 
ment, just till he could clip it across the 
room ! I wish I had had the parson and 
the witnesses ready when I asked you to 
have me.” 

And then I left him, before he could go 
any deeper into that subject, and he took 
up his book. 

We heard the baby crying in the night. 
It had been my custom to run whenever 
I heard it, for the cure was progressing 
nicely, and a single careless act would 
upset all that had been done and post- 
pone the desired result yet other three 
months. 

I usually flattered myself that John 
knew nothing about my nightly flights 


92 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


along the halls. But this time he spoke. 
“Go and get the baby, Rachel, and let 
me have it : it looks just as Robbie did 
when he was in trouble, and I know I can 
get it to sleep.” 

I brought it to hjm. When miracles 
are to be wrought, I am ready to “ fill the 
water-pots with water,” or do anything 
else to help, and it looked very much as 
if somebody was working a miracle on 
John. 

He took the little fellow in his arms, 
muttering something about women-folks’ 
letting babies’ feet freeze, cuddled it down 
by him, and neither of them stirred till 
morning. 

After breakfast the next morning, as 
he folded up his napkin, he looked around 
the table. There were . five children and 
ourselves and a vacant place, where our 
eldest sat for ten years, but which had 
been vacant ten years. I waited for him 


"BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 93 

to speak his thought, and wondered what 
it possibly could be. 

“ Seems to me, Rachel, when there are 
over a hundred pounds of caramels in the 
house, we might have them three times 
a day till they are gone : there certainly 
is room for them.” 

He waited long enough to assure him- 
self that his little parable had “ gone the 
whole length of my head,” as he some- 
times elegantly expressed it, and started 
off to the office. 

He rang the changes on that name so 
often in those three months that I have 
ever since felt as if I ought to eat my 
caramels with salt ; if, indeed it was right 
to eat them at all. 

We agreed on our wedding-day that I 
was never to make a pun, and I never 
have — in his presence ; and he was never 
to scold, and he never has — audibly. 
Vainly I pronounced the name with care, 


94 


Tlf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Crom-well,” whenever I spoke of them ; 
the very next minute he would break out 
with something like “The Caramels are 
coming, oh, ho ! oh, ho !” “ That was 

the straw that broke the Caramel’s back.” 
“The moon rose very caramelly to-night,” 
and so on, and never stop till I assured 
him that with all his puns I loved him still. 

I was not slow to take the hint about 
my boarder in solitary confinement, and 
at the dinner-table the sweet-faced girl sat 
in the vacant place with her baby tied in 
a big arm-chair close by. Her quick wit 
soon made her mistress of her fork and 
napkin, and now that she could hold her 
head up as an honest woman she was 
very pleasant company. 

The three months sped away, the baby 
boy was cured, and we could almost see 
him grow. 

Three months still remained of the pris- 
oner’s term in prison. Sallie went to see 


"BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 95 

him often. I visited him once a week, 
and so did Nancy, Jim, and Nancy’s pas- 
tor too. And he had other visitors ; the 
Holy Spirit and the angels know the way 
into prison cells. Unchallenged by senti- 
nels or wardens, they took up their abode 
with him, and the man grew in grace. 

“ Did you say that the Caramels are 
both praying for an opening for work 
when he comes out?” my husband asked 
one morning, when but one month was left. 

“Yes, why? Have you heard of some- 
thing?” I asked again. 

“No, I have n’t, and I do n’t believe 
they will find anything,” said he. “No- 
body will employ a thief, not even as 
porter; and that girl’s hands would not 
take kindly to a wash-board.” 

“I have great confidence in prayer,” 
said I. “I was reading only the other 
day—” 

“ Never mind what you were reading,” 


96 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


he exclaimed a little pettishly: “those 
things always sound like chips off the 
same block — head. I would like to have 
something come under my own observa- 
tion, something that I could not doubt, 
and then I ’d pray all the rest of my life. 
Come, now, I ’ll make this a test case. If 
an opening, a good opening, mind, pre- 
sents itself for this man and this woman 
before his time is up, I will believe that 
there is really something in it.” 

I stole away alone to the mercy-seat 
for a little while to ask the Lord if any- 
thing could be too hard for Him. 

Then I went to Sallie. “ Sallie, are you 
still praying that you may be provided 
with work when your husband is free, 
and that he may have employment too? 

“Yes, ma’am, and he is too,” she an- 
swered promptly. 

“And do you believe that it will be 
done for you ?’ I asked. 


" BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 97 

“ Yes, ma’am, I do,” she said, without 
any hesitation. 

“ I will ‘ stand aside ’ and see what He 
will do,” I said to myself, as I hurried 
about to pack little luncheons and find 
little hats and strap little books for school. 

All the forenoon I seemed to see un- 
rolled before me like a panorama the in- 
stances in the Bible of God’s willingness 
to prove his power in cases of honest 
doubt, and I kept saying over and over, 
“ That was the same God to whom Sallie 
and Clay are praying.” But through it 
all ran an undertone of belief that John’s 
was not an honest doubt, and that even 
a miracle would avail nothing to him. 

I never knew any one who insisted 
upon making his own conditions of sur- 
render to accept them honorably and 
fully when they were granted. But per- 
haps this time John would take the step 
if those prayers were answered. Many a 
7 


98 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


time had my soul yearned over John, 
many a time had I tried to make my way 
over the abatis of wit and banter which I 
always encountered when I approached 
him on that side ; and now he seemed to 
be interested for the first time in the result 
of somebody’s prayers, interested enough 
to be just a trifle cross. 

How strange that Nancy and Sallie 
should express themselves in almost the 
same words! Nancy didn’t care how 
hardly life went with her, if only she and 
Jim could live in heaven together; and 
Sallie thought it would not be so very 
bad to starve, if that meant going to 
heaven with Clay. And I and John ! 

“ I don’t know but I ’d as lief be lost if 
John is; I’d fly lame without John,” I 
said to myself, dropping tears into the 
basket of freshly-ironed clothes that had 
just come up stairs to be put away. I was 
getting them all mixed up, the boys’ 


“BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 99 

shirts with the girls’ skirts, and the socks 
mismated. My whole being was trying 
to weigh down heavily on the lever that 
was moving the Almighty arm, for whom ? 
For these two poor homeless ones whose 
lives hung in the balance ? Did any one 
ever succeed in loosening down a single 
blessing by itself ? 

No, they come like chain-shot, linked 
together ; it is a good thing to be near 
some one who prays and join one’s voice 
with his. The judge who pronounced the 
sentence on the prisoner at the bar had 
deliberately staked his own highest in- 
terests upon the prisoner’s appeal to a 
higher court, and it was John for whom I 
craved the answer to the prisoner’s prayer. 

And there, by the basket of clothes, 
while I was trying to “ sort " them over 
and keep them sorted, a wonderful thing 
came to me. 

Three things in this world are always 


lOO 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


wonderful, always unexpected, however 
natural or inevitable — death, the first sweet 
assurances of love returned, and answers 
to prayer. Why should not prayers be 
answered? The Hand that made the in- 
strument can touch most distant keys in 
unison, and discord only comes when they 
refuse to sound under His fingers or try 
to sound themselves. 

The postman brought a letter from 
John’s twin cousins who always called 
themselves the “ conies,” because they 
were a “feeble folk.” Their mother’s 
lungs lasted only till they were born, and 
they survived the perils of babyhood 
mainly by virtue of their non-resistance 
of them. They themselves said that the 
old fellow with the scythe cut too far to 
the right or the left of them because they 
were so thin. And so they had lived to- 
gether, a maiden and a bachelor, for forty 
years. 


"BY A lYAY THA T THEY KNEW NO T." loi 


They kept a little fancy store in Iowa, 
both of them knitting and crocheting, 
learning and imparting to their customers 
the various broidery stitches and new 
fancies. They led a gentle, uneventful 
life that made small drain upon their 
strength. They scarcely needed even to 
talk to one another. Their minds were 
run in the same mould and both turned 
out together. Indeed, but for her quick 
eye for shades and combinations and his 
quicker eye for figures, one might have 
wondere*d that they had not both been 
boys or both been girls. They rarely 
wrote; it made them tired to write; but 
when they did we always felt like getting 
frames and hanging up their letters. 
“ Samplers,” John called them, for they 
were so quaintly written and the pen- 
manship was so exquisite. And this was 
what they wrote from Iowa ; 


102 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Dear Cousins John and Rachel: 

“The lapse of time since last we had 
the pleasure of a letter from your pens 
convicts us of an unintentional negligence 
towards you. We trust that you will par- 
don our long silence when we state that, 
even for ‘conies,’ we are very feeble. 
Our lungs were never strong, and there 
are indications now that neither of us will 
again survive the wintry blasts of Iowa. 
Therefore we desire to put our house in 
order for the long-expected day, so strange- 
ly and so many times postponed. 

“Our object in addressing you at this 
time is twofold : to say that we should be 
rejoiced to see your well-beloved faces 
once more on earth, if you can leave your 
home consistently, and to inquire if you 
can designate some proper person to whom 
we may intrust our little business. 

“We have been long debating what to 
do. We have a very tender feeling for 


"BY A WAV THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 103 

the store, and cannot contemplate the 
thought of giving up to a careless person 
the stock and premises so neatly kept. 
And it would give us pain to close the 
doors as if we had already gone away. 

“ After a careful canvass of all those of 
our acquaintance to whom we might make 
such an offer, we feel moved to write to 
you to ask if you know any person suita- 
ble whom we might make our heir and 
successor.” 

Then came kindly messages for the 
children in trembling characters. The 
hand that wrote was “ tired,” whether her 
hand or his, I could not tell. One thing 
I knew ; I knew who held the hand that 
wrote, and kept it steady till it wrote His 
message. 

“John,” said I, when he came home, 
“ here is your fleece. Just wring it out 
for yourself.” 

He took the letter with a puzzled look 


104 


Tlf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


and uttered an exclamation of delight at 
sight of the familiar neat handwriting. I 
watched him as he read. I could see in 
his changing countenance how he pro- 
gfressed, and when he read the last par- 
agraph he turned white and sat down. 

“ It is a miracle,” said he ; “ there is no 
doubt of it.” 

“You are going to pray to Him now, 
John?” I whispered, creeping close to 
him. No answer. 

“John, there is no other way to be 
saved !” 

Still no response. 

“O John, I love you so I could almost 
be lost with you, if it was n’t for the chil- 
dren,” I sobbed. 

Then the old spirit of opposition rose 
within him. It is a dangerous thing to 
have once sharpened the points of an 
abatis against God’s truth. 

“ I can’t for the life of me remember 


"BY A fYAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT." 105 

ever having done anything very bad,” 
said this man, so upright and so lovable. 
It made me desperate. 

“ I wish you had !” I cried. “ I wish 
you were a drunkard or a thief, for then 
your pride would not stand in the way. 
Jim and Clay were noble enough to accept 
Christ when he was offered to them. Your 
pride is a bigger sin than theirs both to- 
gether. It is big enough to keep Christ 
out.” j 

“ Do n’t cry, little woman,” said he, 
soothingly. “ I will do it before long ; I 
will, truly. But I have a crowded docket 
on hand just now, and cannot give the 
matter the attention it deserves. And, 
Rachel, I ’m not ‘ lost ’ yet.” 

And there I had to leave him, just out- 
side. John, the half of myself! with one 
hand I could touch him as we stood side 
by side, but the other could not reach 
him, though it circled the whole universe. 


Io6 Tff'O NOBLE WOMEN. 

As far as the east is from the west, so far 
was John from me. Shall we ever come 
any nearer on that side ? 

It required something of an effort to 
recall the fact that, after all, the message 
was for Sallie. So I bathed my face with 
cooling things, in order not to bear the 
joyful tidings with too sorrowful a coun- 
tenance, and took the letter to her. 

Her breath came quickly when she read 
the last words, and she sprang to get her 
shawl and bonnet, to carry the news to 
Clay — then checked herself, and merely 
saying, “ I was forgetting to thank Him,” 
she went into the closet and shut the door. 

“ Did anybody ever do bad again after 
getting prayers answered?” she asked, 
when she came out. 

“ I am afraid they do, many times,” I 
said, “ but Christ is forgiving.” 

“ It does n’t look to me like I could be 
so mean,” said she, putting on her wraps, 


“By A fTAF THAT THEY KNEW NOT" 107 

“ and I ’m going to warn Clay, and him 
and I will watch ourselves not to do it.” 

“ Keep your eyes on Jesus, mydear child ; 
that is the only safe way to look,” said I, as 
I took my seat to nurse the baby and my 
heavy heart ; and she flew down the stairs 
and out of the house, to tell her fellow- 
petitioner that the King had prepared a 
place for them. 

I wrote straightway to the “ conies,” tell- 
ing them the whole story, and they could 
not wait to write, but telegraphed their 
answer, 

“ Send her and the baby. Let him fol- 
low when free.” 

Again the little trunk-room held one 
trunk, while it was packed. Some of the 
clothing was marked with a “ C,” but most 
of it with a “ B,” for I felt as if a child 
was leaving me ; and Sallie and the baby 
went to Iowa. 

“ Nancy,” said I, when the train had 


lo8 NOBLE WOMEN. 

pulled out of the d^p6t, “ has the bond be- 
tween you and me just gone off on the 
train? Or are we still joined in heart and 
hand for good work and for friendship ?” 
I deserve no pity for the tears that filled 
my eyes immediately, for I had had expe- 
rience before of her stalwart assurances 
of love. 

I went out to Iowa a few weeks after 
Clay did, to see the “ conies ” in their 
“ house among the rocks.” 

I found the gentle twins lying in easy- 
chairs, drawn close together, and the dimp- 
led, crowing baby sitting on the two chair- 
arms between them, charming wisely. 
Sallie was hovering about the three, radi- 
ant with health and happiness; already 
she was the beloved daughter. Clay was 
in the store, besieged with customers, alert 
and courteous as ever. The business had 
increased since his coming, and larger 
orders must be sent for the spring trade 


“ BY A WAY THAT THEY KNEW NOT" 109 

than ever before. I heard but one sigh 
from the twins : “ If they had only come 
out long ago! for we must go so soon 
and leave them !” And so they prospered. 

“ It does beat all, ma’am !” said Nancy, 
when I told her about them, on my return. 
“ There could n’t be more than one fancy- 
store in the whole United States waiting 
to be give away ; but ’s long ’s they was 
one, of course the Lord would know jest 
where it was; and it’s my opinion that 
the right ones got it.” 

I ventured to ask her, then, a question 
which had been often in my mind when 
we were separated, but which it always 
seemed impossible to utter in her pres- 
ence. “ Is there anything I could do to 
help you and Jim to better your for- 
tunes? You have wisdom and discretion 
to do a great deal of good with a little 
spare money and a little more leisure.” 

Very quietly she raised her eyes. 


no Tfro NOBLE WOMEN. 

“You said it as a sister might, ma’am ; 
I think I could bring any trouble to you, 
ma’am ; but Jim is on the right track now, 
and I wouldn’t have him change. I’d 
walk along the lowlands with him sooner 
than I ’d resk his falling. And the path 
that ’s safe for Jim is good enough for 


me. 


ffoiv JIM "jined: 


III 


CHAPTER VI. 

HOW JIM “j’iNED.” 

Jim Burris’ path was not laid out in 
the “ lowlands ” for its whole length. For 
half a dozen years he trudged along on 
the safer level, with Nancy by his side to 
cheer and steady his steps, and then the 
Providence in whom she trusted led him 
higher. He could not be called a man of 
superior ability, but he certainly acquired 
more skill in cutting and finishing goods 
than his fellow-workmen, by reason of his 
clearer brain and steadier hand. There- 
fore, when the foreman was dismissed for 
drunkenness, after several valuable orders 
had been lost or spoiled in consquence of 
it, it was not strange that Jim should be 
selected for promotion to his place. 

The day of his succession was a good 


II2 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


one for that shop ; for it was understood 
that the new boss, while he took no airs 
upon him and never “preached,” would 
rather have no liquor brought into the 
shop. 

And the men always felt more at ease 
if only their tin cans, with coffee in the 
top and bread and meat below, were set 
out on the bench at noon, for Nancy often 
came to fetch Jim’s dinner hot, and they 
remembered how she looked when they 
brought wine and ale to cheer up Jim and 
Bill when they lay sick of small-pox. 

The foreman’s wage was carried home 
as regularly as the hand’s bad been for 
Nancy’s keeping, and she turned it into 
comforts for the family, with frequent lit- 
tle luxuries for Jim. 

“ I never kin somehow feel like I ’ve 
got Jim fair weaned yit,” she said with a 
laugh as she showed me one shelf in her 
closet full of jellies and canned stuff for 


HO W JIM “JINED: 


”3 


his dinner-pail. “Seems like I have to 
cuddle him a little.’' 

As time went on and Jim’s higher path 
still seemed a safe one, her face began to 
look more youthful. Those weary years 
of worrying and watching had left their 
mark, but now she lost a certain wary look, 
as of one who listens for a sound outside 
of the homely noises near. And she no 
longer spoke of her family as “ Jim and 
the children it was “ us and the chil- 
dren?’ It was when he united with the 
church that he was taken into full partner- 
ship by the real head of the family. 

I was away from home at that time. 
John and I had long been planning a sort 
of second wedding journey, to be taken 
when the children should be old enough to 
leave with safety. So now, having piloted 
the last one through the narrow channel 
beset with croup and whooping-cough and 
other kindred wreckers, I left them in my 


TU^O NOBLE WOMEN. 


1 14 

mother’s care and went with John to Eu- 
rope. Lest this should be the “ Baldwin 
Story,” I will only say that the second 
wedding journey was pleasanter than the 
first, and on returning we found our little 
brood as thrifty as we left them all six 
months before. 

The day after our return, while I was 
busy setting the trunks in order in the 
attic (Flora Hunter and her sewing-ma- 
chine were in the trunk-room), I heard a 
well-known voice down stairs asking for 
me. 

“ Come right up here, Nancy, you dear 
old woman !” I cried, and she rushed up 
the stairs and fell upon my neck with the 
grasp of a bear. 

“ What is it, Nancy?” I exclaimed with 
my first good breath. “ Sit right down 
here on the rag-bag and tell me what has 
happened. Oh, you can’t put me off that 
way. It is n’t simply seeing me.” 


/fOJV' jim"J'Ined: 


”5 


“Jim’s j’ined !’’ said she. 

“ Not joined the church !’’ I exclaimed. 

“Yes, he has, j’ined the church, and I 
could n’t hardly wait till you come home 
to tell you how it come round. You know 
Jim, he ’s been religious fer a good while, 
but I could n’t never git him to take the 
last step. He did git as fur as to read the 
Bible fer me when we had family prayers, 
but he would n’t lead in prayer ; fer he 
says, says Jim, ‘Them children might 
hear me cuss yit, an’ that wouldn’t sound 
purty after praying,’ says he. Fer he was 
afeared he might git to drinking ag’in, 
and the man that drinks is liable to cuss. 
And then he would n’t jine fer fear he ’d 
bring disgrace on the church and his pro- 
fessions. ‘Ef I don’t climb fur I can’t 
fall fur,’ says he. 

“And so communion Sundays would 
come, and I ’d set still and Jim ’d go out. 
And the preacher, he kep’ a-saying. ‘ This 


Il6 TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 

is a type of the feast of heaven.’ Now 
think of that, me a-setting at the feast and 
Jim a-walking out ! Oh, you don’t know 
how I ’ve felt about it ! Beg your pardon, 
Mrs. Baldwin, I did n’t go to hurt you. I 
reely did fergit about the judge, and I 
wont do it no more.” 

“ Go on, Nancy,” I managed to say. “ I 
may have to get used to that hurt.” 

She pressed my hand and continued, 

“ Well, as I was a-going to say, one 
Sunday come which a neighbor woman 
of mine, her husband j’ined the church, 
and she stood up by him to keep his heart 
up like, and then they took the bread and 
wine together, an’ looked so happy I jest 
could n’t stand it. When I went home I 
says to Jim, says I, ‘ See here, Jim, this 
here foolishness is gone on long enough 
now ! ef you do love the Lord you ’ve got 
to come out on his side. You know ’s well 
I do ef you go back on him he ’ll go back 


HO W JIM “ J’lNED.” 1 1 7 

on you, and I can’t stand the thoughts of 
it no longer. Now tell me jest what is 
a-standing in your way.’ 

“‘I’m afeared I can’t stand up to it,’ 
says he. 

“ ‘ Stand up how ?’ says I. 

“ ‘ I’m afeared I ’ll git to drinking ag’in,’ 
says he. 

“ All the way home I ’d kep’ a-praying 
fer the right answer to that there old ex- 
cuse. I ’d beared it so many times seems 
like it skinned my ears, fer every time it 
hurt me worse. And the answer was put 
in my mouth. 

“ ‘ Jim,’ says I, ‘ answer me two or three 
questions,’ says I. ‘ Ef the Lord Jesus 
was on the earth now, do you believe he 
could keep out of saloons ef he thought 
they was bad places fer him and his disci- 
ples ?’ says I. 

“ ‘ Of course,’ says he ; ‘ ask me a hard 


one.’ 


Il8 TIf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 

“ ‘ Do you believe he walked on the wa- 
ter?’ 

“‘Yes,’ says he. ‘I kin see very plain 
that I ’m a-walking in at the door of a trap,’ 
says he ; ‘ but give us the questions.’ 

“ ‘ I wisht it was a door made of a single 
pearl,’ says I, ‘fer oncet in there you 
would n’t want to go out,’ says I. ‘ And 
now, do you believe that Peter walked on 
the water too, when Jesus held his hand?’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ said he, ‘ it ’s that a’way in the 
Bible,’ says he. 

“‘Well,’ says I, ‘that was water they 
could paddle a boat in and fish could live 
in ; but I believe ’at Peter ’d ’a’ had to git 
down and lick it ef he wanted a drink, his 
feet was that stiddy on it. And s’p’osing 
they’d been part alcohol in it; He’d ’a’ 
kep’ him stiddy and solid on that too.’ 

“Mrs. Baldwin, Jim looked like he seen 
some person standing behind me, and he 
couldn’t speak. And I says, says I, ‘You 


JIM'‘J’1NED.' 


119 


jest give Him your hand before the dis- 
ciples, and say, “ Lord, save ; I perish !” 
like Peter did, and I believe He’ll hold 
you up so ’s you could walk on liquor and 
never git in up to your mouth. 

“ ‘ And now,’ says I, ‘ what I want you 
to do is to go with me a Wednesday even- 
ing coming and set down your name to 
jine next Communion.’ 

“ I did n’t say it like I wanted to boss 
Jim, reely I did n’t, and Jim, he never took 
it that a’way. But I beared a doctor oncet, 
a-laying down the law to a sick man that 
was contrairy-like, and I felt jest the way 
he talked. You see, I loved Jim so it made 
me mad to see him hang back so. 

“ Well, Wednesday evening come, and I 
had Jim’s supper ready the minute he 
struck the house. After he ’d eat it, I says, 
says I, ‘Now you be a-cleaning up while 
I ’m a-washing the dishes, and we ’ll be 
there early.’ 


120 


Tlf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ ‘ I reckon I ’ll wait till next time,’ says 
he, ‘ fer I ’m tired to-night.’ 

“ ‘ You wont back out now, will you, 
Jim?’ says I; ‘now’s the time and go’s 
the word.’ 

“ So he went up stairs to git cleaned up. 
I listened, but I could n’t hear his feet 
tramping round ner the pitcher rattling 
in the bowl. So purty soon I followed 
him. He was setting in the rocking-cheer 
looking sleepy, er trying to, and hadn’t 
done one thing. 

“ ‘ They a ’n’t but one clean shirt,’ says 
he, quite hasty-like when he seen me, ‘ and 
I want that fer Sunday ; you ’ve got enough 
to do without doing two washings a week,’ 
says he. 

“ ‘ I may not be agreeable to vote,’ says 
I, ‘ but I kin do my own complaining ; and 
ef that ’s the last devil you ’ve got about 
you, I ’d enjoy drowning him violent down 
my washboard,’ says I. 


HOW JIM “ J’INED: 


121 


“ Well, Jim laughed a minute, jest the 
way you 're a-laughing now, and then he 
put his arms around me, and he says, says 
Jim, ‘ Nancy, you ’ve right ; the devil shall 
not keep me back and went to dressing. 

“ ‘ Give me your shoes and I ’ll shine 
them while you wash up,’ says I. And 
so, between us both, Jim did git ready. 

“ And he got up of his own accord and 
asked the prayers of the members, and set 
his name down on the book fer next Com- 
munion. Mrs. Baldwin, I never had no 
great happiness come to me sudden-like 
afore that. I have had happiness, but it 
growed slow-like out of misery, and I was 
always lookin’ fer it to wither down ag’in, 
like a soap-bubble turns back to suds. And 
now I felt like I reely had Jim fer keeps. 

“ The next morning he read the Bible, 
like he always did, and then he says, says 
Jim, ‘ Let us pray.’ We all got down on 
our knees: he couldn’t think of nothing 


122 


TfVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


to say but, ‘ Lord, save ; I perisb ! Lord, 
save ; I perish !’ but that was the best 
prayer I ever beared ; seems like I seen a 
hand reached down to hold him stiddy. 

“ And our oldest boy and Mary j’ined 
with Jim. So we ’re all together now but 
David and the baby. But I think Davy 
holds back out of pure contrairiness, and 
the baby’s name ’ll pull her through, I 
reckon. Ef I could only see Davy stand 
up on the right side, I do believe I could 
enjoy this pain I git so often in my breast. 
And I ’m that thankful that I did n’t run 
away from Jim that time when I came so 
near it, I ’m fair sick with joy when I think 
of it.” 

I looked at her with searching eyes ; 
it meant that — the short, dry cough, the 
flushing cheeks, the shining eyes — and I 
had never thought of their meaning any- 
thing ! 

Now that the excitement of her walk 


/rOfr JIM‘'J'INED.' 


123 


and run up stairs had somewhat subsided, 
I could see how she had changed in those 
six months. Perhaps the hand that “ stid- 
died ” Jim was helping this gleaner to 
work faster because her working day was 
almost over. 

“ Have you never been quite free from 
that cough that troubled you when I went 
away ?” I asked. 

“No, nothing seems to tetch it; it’s 
going to take my life,” she answered calm- 
ly. And we went down the attic stairs 
with slow and careful feet together. How 
could I give her up ? 

Ever since the Carmels were fairly es- 
tablished in their cosey fancy-store Nancy 
and I had been true yoke-fellows. Her 
shrewd common sense and practical knowl- 
edge of the necessities of the unfortunate 
girls in the block where we found Sallie, 
and the best avenues of approach to them, 
were wonderful. Many a woman reared 


124 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 


in luxury longs to help her less favored 
sisters, but is kept back by a sense of her 
own ignorance, as well as an exaggerated 
idea of the difference between her station 
and theirs and a real delicacy about in- 
truding upon them. These had been some 
of the sources of my own weakness and 
inefficiency in such work, and I felt that I 
had discovered one skilled to coin my 
good intentions into currency when I found 
Nancy. 

Those seven years of loving, systematic 
work with her to lead me, to hold me back, 
to make paths straight and open doors, 
were the happiest years of my life; and 
now this faithful yoke-fellow was falling 
by my side ! 

Four days after our talk in the attic I 
went around to the little house in the back 
street. My pony knew the way, and al- 
ways turned his head in that direction as 
if to say, “ is it to Nancy’s this time ?” 


ffojf' jm “ j’ined: 


125 


My heart was full of longing to begin 
my work again after so long an absence. 
Nancy was the best of talkers, but her pen 
was slow and stiff, so her letters had been 
few and brief and almost bare of news. 
There were many questions to be asked 
about our little parish, and I threw the 
pony’s rein over the post and hastened up 
the steps to the old front-door. My knock 
was not answered, so I opened the door 
and went in, through the house, up stairs, 
in search of Nancy. 

How shall I tell it ? She lay propped 
up with pillows, breathing short and hard, 
every breath a stab. There was a pierce- 
ing wind on Monday ; she caught cold 
while hanging out the wash, and her lungs 
were on fire. 

The little Rachel hung about the bed, 
kissing the hard, thin hands with baby 
lips, leaning her curly head against the 
pillows, dimly conscious that there was 


126 


TIVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


trouble, though too young to comprehend 
it. Mary had gone to the shop to tell her 
father what the doctor said about the case, 
and the boys were away at school. 

The mother’s eyes filled when she looked 
at Rachel. 

“The others is pretty — well growed,” 
she panted ; “ but this — little lamb.” 

Instantly the dimpled hands stole up to 
wipe away the tears, and the blue eyes 
looked wistfully from Nancy to me. 

“ Mamma ’s kying,” she said, and ran to 
get her dollie and make it dance for mam- 
ma on the bed. Mamma smiled and nod- 
ded, and Rachel put away her dollie, satis- 
fied that mamma’s clouds were chased 
away. 

The shining, wide eyes followed her. 
“ I reckin the Lord knowed — what he was — 
about when he — sent that baby — fer me to 
leave— so soon,” said she. Then, trying to 
lift her head to give an emphasis to the 


IfOK' JIM "JINED: 


127 


words, she added, “He don’t make — no 
mistakes.’’ 

“ The baby will have a work to do,’’ said 
I faintly. It had always seemed to me as 
if I could lay hold of something and defy 
death to take me away from my children. 
I could imagine myself submissive to al- 
most anything else, but to die and leave 
young children ! The mother’s clear eyes 
read my face. 

“ He don’t make— no mistakes,’’ she re- 
peated. 

“ Your faith and trust are greater than 
mine,” I faltered, with fast falling tears. 

“ Been fed — all night — on them,” she 
whispered. “ Rachel ’ll be — Jim’s anchor.” 

I cannot tell it all ; the pen must be in- 
spired that portrays the day and night in 
which a Christian wife and mother num- 
bers her last hours on earth. Oh, precious 
hours ! A little time to whisper words of 
encouragement to the young Christians, 


12 $ 


TPf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


John and Mary, to beg of David to prepare 
to follow her, to leave sweet messages to 
be taught to little Rachel, to comfort the 
broken-hearted man who would hardly 
know how to breathe when this strong 
heart was still. How the soul strains every 
nerve to put the last strokes to its work in 
the last hours ! Even the Saviour labored 
day and night just at the last, crowded the 
moments full, as if impatient of the slow 
motions of his human tongue and the dull 
ears of his disciples. 

Just at daybreak she cried out, “ Lift me 
up ; my Lord is ready !” 

And then the father and his children 
clung together in their loneliness, while 
little Rachel, wakened by the mother’s 
voice, came pattering in on soft, bare feet, 
and, for the first time in her life, found no 
smile of welcome on her mother’s face. 


LORD, SAVE; I PERISH!" 


129 


CHAPTER VII. 

“lord, save ; I PERISH !” 

The first days are not the hardest. A 
physical weariness benumbs the whole be- 
ing like an anaesthetic ; the sharpest pangs 
are soon sheathed in exhaustion. And 
then there is a mocking sense of nearness, 
as if we might stretch out a hand in the 
darkness and grasp again the one we just 
let go — it cannot be too far away so soon ! 
But as the days go on the chair is empty 
still, the best-loved voice has never spoken 
once since that last whisper, and the busy 
world jostles the mourner if his footsteps 
lag to listen and remember. Then comes 
the anguish of bereavement! And then 
sometimes the past comes back with whips 
and makes us cower and cry for pardon 
from the one we mourn. This was one 
thing I dreaded for Jim Burris. 

9 


130 


TIVO NOBLE WOMEN. 


John and I were sitting together and 
talking about him one evening about two 
weeks after Nancy went away, remarking 
how devoted he was to her in her sickness, 
and how terrible a blow her death seemed 
to be to him, and I said that I could hardly 
realize that they were the same people who 
passed our house that early Sabbath morn- 
ing when he was staggering and cursing 
and she was feebly following in tears. 

“ I think, Rachel,” said my husband, “ if 
it had been you and I, that little experi- 
ence would be hurting me just about now.” 

Before I could reply the door-bell rang. 
John answered it himself, and uttered an 
exclamation of surprise. 

“ Rachel, come here !” 

Jim Burris came reeling in, with little 
Rachel sleeping in his arms. I sprang to 
take the child when I saw them, while 
John grasped the father’s arm and led him 
to the library. 


LORD, SAVE; I PERISH!" 


I3J 


“ I a’n’t drunk, Judge Baldwin ; I ha’n’t 
tetched it yit, but I ’m afeared I ’ll have to.” 

And the man sank down in a chair, 
looking as if he was about to faint. 

“ Why, Burris, you would n’t throw away 
all that you ’ve gained in all these years ! 
Think of your wife,” said John, sitting 
down close by him. He turned wild, hag- 
gard eyes towards the judge, and his lips 
quivered. 

“ I would n’t want it ef I could quit 
thinking about her. It’s because I do 
think, and I ’m afeared I ’ve got to drink 
myself blind drunk so ’s I ’ll fergit her jest 
once, er I ’ll go crazy !” 

“ You had better lose your mind, Burris ; 
you ’ll get to your wife in glory safe and 
sound, even if your mind does get unbal- 
anced for a while down here.” 

So spoke the lawyer. 

“ It ’ll' kill me to think sech thoughts 
much longer,” sobbed the man. 


132 


TfrO NOBLE WOMEN. 


“ Die sober then, my friend ; it will be 
a safer way to die,” was the prompt reply. 
And then, drawing his chair still closer, 
he said, very gently, 

“ Tell us what thoughts you have. May- 
be we can walk up to your ghosts and lay 
them for you.” 

“ Well, I ’ll try,” he answered, after a 
moment’s pause to recover his voice. 

“ Wait a minute,” I interrupted ; “ let 
me lay Rachel down and get something 
that will warm and strengthen you before 
you begin.” 

John held out his long arms and I laid 
the pretty little thing on his broad breast. 
She was deep asleep ; her cheeks were 
pink, and her soft curls were moist with 
the dews of healthy childhood’s slum- 
ber. The father turned to look at her 
with quieter eyes. 

“ I took her out o’ bed an’ dressed her 
to keep me in the middle of the road over 


LORD, SAVE; I PERISH!" 


133 

here. Seemed like I could n’t get Nancy’s 
baby through a saloon door.” 

He smoothed the little stockings on the 
short, plump limbs. “ Mary kin darn as 
good as her mother,” said he, pointing to 
the neatly filled-in knees. 

“ You will take a great deal of comfort 
in your children,” John was saying as I 
came back with a tumbler of hot milk and 
a plate of bread and cheese. 

“ Now eat and drink,” said I. “ This 
hot milk will stimulate and refresh you, 
and then tell us all about it.” 

“ I do believe that hot milk done me 
good !” said he, with genuine surprise after 
a few minutes, during which we admired 
the baby, praised Mary’s neat work, and 
expressed our expectation that she would 
make a comfortable home for her father 
and brothers and be a mother to little 
Rachel. 

“ I do n’t feel that craving I had when 


Tlf'O NOBLE WOMEN. 


134 

I come here," he resumed, still sur- 
prised. 

And I mentally resolved to go the next 
morning and advise Mary to provide hot 
milk and some simple treat whenever this 
restless spirit came upon her father. A 
little while we watched the glowing coals 
and talked of various matters. Jim was 
growing cheerful. Should we let him go 
home as he came, with a burden on his 
mind unspoken ? Was not John right 
about there being ghosts to lay ? I tried 
to think what Nancy would have done, 
she was so discreet, yet so direct and sol- 
dierly ; and I remembered how she almost 
collared him to make him join the church 
when he was wavering. That decided the 
matter, and I ventured to say a word. 

“ You will leave those ghosts with Judge 
Baldwin and me? The baby will be 
enough for you to carry home.” 

He raised his head and looked at me. 


LORD, SAVE; I PERISH/’ 


135 

“ Kin you read minds like Nancy could ?” 
he asked abruptly. 

“ I loved her well enough to want to 
help her husband,” said I. 

“ Well, now, I was jest a-wondering ef I 
had n’t better go home with the same load 
I come with, but I reckon I ’d best tell it, 
fer it ’ll git me ag’in ef I carry it back. 
You don’t know how bad I’ve been to 
Nancy. I feel like I ’d orter be took up 
and serve my time. I left her onct fer 
three days an’ nights, and we was n’t long 
married. 

“ You see, I ’d been drinking off an’ on, 
and Nancy, she was that good to me it 
made me feel too mean. So I says to my- 
self, says I, ‘ I ’ll take one good spree where 
she can’t be bothered of me nor be bother- 
ing of me.’ So I stayed in an old empty 
shop-room with my jug and tried to make 
it go. But I could n’t seem to git drunk 
enough to fergit Nancy, and the third 


136 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


night I walked by home to see ef she had 
a light, er ef smoke was coming out of the 
chimbley. And I seen Nancy setting by 
the winder, leaning ag’in the glass with 
her eyes shet. She was so white I thought 
fer a minute she was dead from watching 
and grieving, and I went in the gate and 
stepped up dost to the winder. The lamp 
was setting on the table by her, and I seen 
the pulse a-beating in her neck, so I 
knowed she was asleep. So I kissed the 
glass over her forehead, and went back to 
sober up a little furder.” 

Here he broke down, and sobbed a while 
as if his heart would break, and John and 
I were crying too. 

“ The thing that hurt me worst,” said 
he, when he could speak again, “ is that 
she never oncet faulted me fer it. She 
set and talked so pleasant, and looked so 
thin and white. Oh, I can’t never forgive 
myself fer it !” 


LORD, SAFE; I PERISH !" 


137 


“She told me all about that long ago,” 
said I. “ She packed her trunk and started 
to call a porter to take it to the d6p6t, in- 
tending to leave you; but changed her 
mind because she had married you ‘for 
better or for worse,’ and she would not 
run away from ‘ worse.’ ” 

“ Did she say that?” he asked. 

“She did, over and over,” I resumed, 
“ and only the week before she left us she 
spoke of it, and said she was ‘ fair sick with 
joy ’ whenever she thought of what she 
came near doing. So you see she for- 
gave it years ago, and that ghost need n’t 
trouble you any more.” 

“ But that h a’n’t all, Mrs. Baldwin ; they 
was a worse thing than that. The last 
spree I had, I give her the slip, and she 
run after me all night, poor thing ! She 
was n’t fit hardly to walk, had orter been 
at home, with me a-waiting on her. When 
I come to, I was laying out' on a side- 


138 TWO NOBLE WOMEN. 

walk, all over mud, an’ purty near naked, 
an’ Nancy was workin’ with me, bathin’ 
my face and cryin’. Now, Mrs. Baldwin, 
you know I loved Nancy — kin you tell 
me how it was I come to cuss my wife 
when I was full of liquor ? The first time, 
she throwed up her hands and drawed 
her breath like it hurt her ; an’ I laughed, 
and cussed her ag’in, to see what she’d 
do. An’ I cussed her all the way home, 
and she never spoke a word. I told her 
I ’d learn her not to interfere with me ! 
But that day, when she laid like death 
and the doctor even gave up hope, an’ 
the little white box laid on the front-room 
table, and I was afeared they ’d be a 
long one there next day — I tell you I 
learned a lesson then, an’ ha’n’t never 
teched a drop sence ! Seems like I ’ve 
done all a man could to make up fer it, 
but she ’d ’a’ been a stronger woman ef I 
had n’t worried her life out them first 


LORD, SAVE! I PERISH/’ 


139 


years. I been a-tbinking, to-day, that ef 
I do git to hell I hope to mercy there ’ll 
be fire there to take up my attention burn- 
ing me, and keep me from thinking of 
them times. I s’pose you’ll say Nancy’s 
forgive that too, though ; but you two ’ll 
despise me, now an’ now on.” 

Here John broke in. “Tell us some- 
thing we do n’t know now, Burris,” said 
he, drying his eyes and smiling. “ My 
wife saw you and your wife that morning ; 
we’ve known it all the time, and only 
think the more of you for telling it.” 

“ You ’ve knowed that — ” he began. 

“ Now that ghost may go away for ever,” 
I said quickly. “ Nancy told me that she 
was glad and thankful for that night, for 
it gave you back to her ‘ to keep.’ ” 

‘ I ’m afeared it ’s going to be mighty 
hard to walk straight without Nancy,” he 
said despondingly, after a long silence. 

“What was it you said in your first 


140 


Tiro NOBLE WOMEN. 


prayer with her and the children?” I 
asked. 

“ Lord, save ; I perish !” he cried, and 
threw himself down on his knees by John’s 
chair. “ Lord, save ; I perish I Nancy’s 
gone, and I can’t walk alone ! Hold my 
hand and keep it solid under me, my 
Lord ! Keep me safe, an’ give my love 
to Nancy, for Christ’s sake. Amen !” 

Springing to his feet, he seized and 
wrung our hands. “ Give me my baby. 
I h a’n’t afeared to go home now !” 

We put the shawl about her ; she smiled 
and murmured in her sleep as John laid 
her in her father’s arms. 

“ I do believe she dreams about her 
mother all night,” he whispered, as he 
gathered up the little bundled thing. 

“ You are father and mother both now, 
and Nancy will expect you to bring all 
the children to her,” I said in parting at 
the door. 


“ LORD, SAVE; I PERISH!" 14 i 

“ I ’ll do my level best,” said he. “ Da- 
vid’s give me his word that he’ll j’ine 
next time, and John and Mary is their 
mother’s children ; but you must pray for 
us!” 

We listened to the steady manly steps 
that rang upon the pavement as far as we 
could hear them, then turned and walked 
together down the hall to the library fire, 
and looked into each other’s eyes. The 
rug lay tumbled as Jim “ scuffed ” it when 
he went down on his knees. The chairs 
stood close together still. 

^ “ Sweetheart, I should want to send my 
love to you.” He tried to say it lightly, 
but his eyes were swimming. 

“You need the same Saviour that is 
helping Jim,” I whispered. 

“ Tell me what to say, and I ’ll say it 
now, Rachel.” 

We knelt together. “ Peter’s prayer 
saved Jim ; try that, John.” 


142 


TWO NOBLE WOMEN 


“ There is nothing ‘ too hard ’ for the 
Lord,” I lay thinking, hours after, while 
John slept peacefully. “ He can keep Jim 
from sinking, can make Nancy die con- 
tented and happy — can rescue Clay and 
Sallie and prosper them, and now, John !” 


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AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


3 


Grandpa’s Desk; or, Who Wins? By Howe Ben- 
ning. 96 pp. 4to. 75 cts. 

** An exceedingly sweet and helpful story. Benny, a little 
‘ Fresh-Air ’ boy, is a guest in the country home of Daisy, Bab, 
and Robin.” * Christian observer. 

Siweetheart. By Ernest Gilmore. Six full-page engrav- 
ings. 84 pp. 4to. 75 cts. 

” This reminds one of the inimitable Christmas stories of 
Thomas Nelson Page . . . The hard-hearted old man, the faithful 
colored servants, and the lovable little girl are cleverly depicted.” 

BOOKSELLER. 

A liittle maiden’s Victory. By Alida W. Graves. 
174 pp. i2mo. 75 cts. 

” The story of ‘ a little maiden’s victory ’ over a very unruly 
spirit is here sweetly told.” 

The House on the Bluff. A Western Flood Story. 
By Julia MacNair Wright. 347 pp. i2mo. $i 50. 

** Julia MacNair Wright has written several stories abounding 
in pith and point, but none of the productions of her pen show to 
greater advantage her ability as an interesting writer than ‘ The 
House on the Bluff.’ ” new York observer. 

By the same anthor. 

Adam’s Daughters. i2mo. 50. 

Mr. Orosvenor’s Daughter. i2mo. $i 50. 

On a Snow-Bound Train. i2mo. $i 25. 

A Good Samaritan. i2mo. $i 25. 

The liittle Pilgrim liihrary. Six volumes in a box. 
$i 50 ; or separately, 25 cts. each. 

This library contains six little books in a box. They are 
prettily bound in red, blue and brown, and ornamented with sil- 
ver. Two are by Annette L. Noble, two by Eleanor A. Hunter, 
and two by Mrs. S. J. Brigham. The library is profusely illus- 
trated and will be greatly enjoyed by the little folks.” 

western recorder. 

A present to delight the heart of any child.” 

RELIGIOUS HERALD. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


4 


Paths of Sunshine: A Scriptural Text and a Poetic 
Gem for ever day in the year. By Mary G. Gray. 35 cts. 

“ It is rightly named, and will make paths of sunshine to 
chose who read and allow these precious truths to lighten up the 
days of life’s journey.” Christian intelligencer. 

The Islands of the Pacific. From the Old to the 
New. By James M. Alexander. With 72 illustrations on coated 
paper. Very tastefully bound. Quarto. $2. * 

“ The history of the Pacific Islands since their first settlement 
by Europeans is a most fascinating study . . . This book is sure 
to find a wide reading. It is fully illustrated with views of the 
enchanting scenery of the islands and with portraits and maps.” 

PUBLIC opinion. 

“ The comprehensive and accurate information which the 
book contains is imparted in a style remarkable for its clearness 
and strength. Every member of our churches should have it, 
and the minister that masters missionary history must have it at 
his elbow.” pacific. 

Heroes of the South Seas. By Martha Burr Banks. 
With 23 full-page half-tone illustrations. 220 pp. i2mo. $i 25. 

“ A truthful and well-told story, made beautiful with many 
artistic illustrations.” inter-ocean. 

“ Most interesting and instructive, as all true stories of real 
heroes are.” western recorder. 

The Three Flshing-BoatS9 and Other Talks to Chil- 
dren. By J. C. Lambert. 60 cts. 

” Excellent addresses to children, in point of brevity, interest, 
and lucid preparation.” Michigan herald. 

A Tady of England. The Life and Letters of Char- 
lotte Maria Tucker (A. L. O. E.). By Agnes Giberne. 8vo. |i 75. 

Boys and Young Hen in Relation to Business. 

By John D. Wells, D. D. 30 cts. 

“Short and practical: urges to fear God and keep his com- 
mandments as the foundation of success.” 

CHRISTIAN OBSERVER. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


5 


The Two St. Johns of the New Testament. By 

the Rev. Janies Stalker, D. D. $i. 

‘'John the Apostle and his peculiarly beautiful character are 
wonderfully portrayed, and the Story of John the Baptist is full of 
precious thoughts that enrich our knowledge of the martyred 
saint.* CHRISTIAN OBSERVER. 

He Haheth He to L-ie Down. By Mrs. Pauli. Paper, 
20 cents; cloth, 40 cents ; calf, $1. 

Aspects of Heaven. By Rev. Burdett Hart, D. D. 
259 pp. i6mo. Gilt top, 75 cts. 

“ A very reverent study of the ‘ Aspects of Heaven,’ based on 
the Word of God. ... It shows us heaven as a place, the ' Fa- 
ther’s House,’ the ‘ City ’ where w'e are to be with the Father and 
his angels, and meet and recognize dear ones gone before.” 

CHRISTIAN OBSERVER. 

A NEW SABBATH-SCHOOL LIBRARY. 

The Golden Rod liibrary. Fifty volumes. i6mo. 
In a neat chestnut case. Price, ^15 net. 

In this library are books by Mrs. Walton, Mrs. Sangster, Mrs. 
Butts, Miss Charlesworth, Miss Hopkins, Lynde Palmer, Hesba 
Stretton, and other popular writers. 

Goshen Hill ; or, Life’s Broken Pieces. By 

Howe Benning. i2mo. 319 pp. |i 25. 

” In this story we see how an eager and ambitious girl was 
gradually led into the cheerful and joyous acceptance of God’s 
plan for her life in place of her own. It is a helpful book for 
those who with an honest desire to do good service for the Master 
are yet given to overlooking the duties that lie nearest.” 

N. Y. OBSERVER. 

Five Stars in a Little Pool. By Edith Carrington. 
22 illustrations. 405 pp. i2mo. 25. 

” We wish every book-loving child could read this book and 
learn therefrom lessons of patience, kindness, honesty, forgive- 
ness and dilligence.” advocate and guardian. 

How Shall I Give ? By the Rev. George A. Forneret. 
Paper, 10 cts. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


Hungering and Thirsting. By Agnes Giberne. 
And nine other stories by favorite writers. With 50 illustrations. 
Cloth, 60 cts. 

This volume contains the following admirable stories com- 
plete: 

Hungering and Thirsting.'’ “ Saved at Sea.” ** Jessica’s 
First Prayer.” “Jessica’s Mother.” “Little Dot.” “Angel’s 
Christmas.” “ Mrs. Anderson’s * Very Present Help.’ ” “ The 

Lost Key.” “ Kenelm Winslow’s Conquest.” “ Field Court.” 

Any one of these stories can be furnished separately, in paper 
cover, at 4 cts. 

Cosey Corner Stories. By Annette L. Noble and 
Eleanor A. Hunter. Containing: 

“ Fido and His Friends.” “ Home Favorites.” “ Between- 
Times Stories.” “ Fireside Stories.” 

All in one volume. Cloth, $1. The same, in four volumes. 
Boards, each, 25 cts. 

“ Filled with sweet stories for the little ones, and are the very 
thing for Sunday afternoon reading.” Christian observer. 

Woman in Missions. Papers and Addresses presented 
at the Woman’s Congress of Missions in Chicago, October, 1893. 
Edited by Rev. E. M. Wherry, D. D. i2mo. 229 pp. |i. 

“A very able and interesting book. These papers and 
addresses were presented djy the leading workers in the various 
missionary societies of the world.'^ 

ILLINOIS BAPTIST BULLETIN. 

Missions at Home and Abroad. Papers read at 
the Congress of Missions, Chicago, 1893. Ekiited by Rev. E. M. 
Wherry, D. D. i2mo. $2. 

Zeinab the Panjabi. A Story of E^st Indian Life. By 
Rev. E. M. Wherry, D. D. 4 illustrations. i2mo. 75 cts. 

These volumes of Dr. Wherry’s constitute a most important 
addition to missionary literature. They are rich in information 
as to the whole wide field at home and abroad, and the sugges- 
tions of the ripest experience and sagacity as to the best methods 
of Christian work on each field. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


1 


Tales of the Warrior King^. Life and Times of 
David, King of Israel. By J. R. Macduff, D. D. 8vo. Illus- 
trated. 

The last book from Dr. MacdufTs pen, which was finished 
just before he was called up higher. 

Morning and Night Watches. By J. R. Macdufi, 
D. D. Printed from new electrotype plates. 32mo. Cloth, 40 
cts. ; dainty white cloth, gilt, in a box, 60 c;s. ; fine calf, $1. 

Mind and Words of Jesns and Faithful Prom- 
iser. By J. R. Macduff, D. D. Printed from new electrotype 
plates. 32mo. Cloth, 40 cts. ; dainty white cloth, in a box, 60 
cts.; fine calf, $1. 

The Bow in the Cloud. By Rev. J. R. Macduff, D. D. 
40 cts. 

Thoughts for the Quiet Hour. By Rev. J. R. 

Macduff, D. D. i6mo. $1. 

The Heroes of the South Seas. By Martha Burr 
Banks. i2mo. 

By the same author {New Editions) : 

The Children’s Summer. $1. 

Richard and Robin. |i. 


STANDARD STORIES IN DAINTY DRESS. 

White leatherette, 50 cts. each. 

Christie’s Old Organ. Mrs. Walton. 

A Raher’s Dozen. Faye Huntington. 

SaTcd at Sea. Mrs. Walton. 

Jessica’s First Prajer and Jessica’s Mother. 

Hesba Stretton. 

liittle Faith. Mrs. Walton. 

Winter’s Folly. Mrs. Walton. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


8 


iTlie Source aud Fruit of Sorrow. By the late 
Arthur Mitchell, D. D. Square. White cloth. 40 cts. 

** There are many comforting thoughts presented and words 
that will cheer the stricken heart.” Christian observer. 

” A beautiful little book.” advocate and guardian. 

Racbel’s Farm. By Miss Annette L. Noble. 223 pp. 
i3mo. Four illustrations. $1. 

” An attractive, elevating, and helpful story. The outcome is 
delightful, and the lesson one of courage, faithfulness, and hope.” 

ZION’S HERALD. 

Paths and By-Paths. By Mrs. A. M. Pickford. 352 
pp. i2mo. Five illustrations. |i 25. 

" A useful story, designed to show the right way to settle 
many social questions which trouble tender consciences.” 

N. Y. OBSERVER. 

Won by liOve. By Mrs. S. S. Wood. i2mo. 252 pp. 
Four illustrations. $1. 

” A well-told story. The family of a sick mother is vividly 
presented, and the struggle of some of her children to supply her 
place evokes the sympathy of the reader.” 

RELIGIOUS HERALD. 

The Family Christian Almanac 

Paper, illustrated, 10 cts. 

A welcome annual visitor to many homes for half a century. 

Assyrian Echoes of the Word. By Thomas Laurie, 
D. D. 380 pp. 8vo. $ 2 , 

” Every student of the Bible and every teacher of a Bible class 
will find this book a most interesting and helpful one.” 

CHRISTIAN WORK. 

“This book is one of sterling value.” 

RELIGIOUS HERALD. 

“ It gives the latest results of Assyrian scholarship.” 

METHODIST PROTESTANT. 


AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


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